Laziness

Here is my thing on sharks. I could spend an unnecessarily extended period of time going into some obscure fact-rant on sharks and my experience with them (none), but I cut my finger this morning, slowing my wpm down dramatically.

To be honest, I’m worried. I am not worried that I will break my surfboard tomorrow. I am not worried that the water will be cold. I am not worried that the car will be cramped with a 9’8” board inside, nor am I even concerned with the number of people I will be competing with in the lineup for a wave.

What I am worried about, is this cut on my finger. I reached into my suit case this morning (have not unpacked since returning from Vegas last weekend) for some aftershave (modern people call it cologne) and ended up cutting a big flap in my index finger. The cut was from my face razor, it bled like, not a water hose, not a leaky faucet, I guess maybe like that classic Donald Duck cartoon where the faucet barely drips, but is super annoying, and keeps him up at night.

So when I get to the waves tomorrow, adorn my wetsuit and booties, and venture out into the cold, plankton festival of an ocean my mind will be on my finger. It won’t be wondering how my brand new surf board will perform, which is where it should be. It will, unfortunately, be dwelling waist-deep in reaction techniques when Whitey inevitably hones in on my location. You see, the problem with the Pacific is that it is not cold enough to deter sharks, but it is also not warm enough to gross them out. Another thought to keep in mind is that when I say “sharks”, I am talking about Great Whites. I capitalized the “g” and “w” out of respect, so maybe that will be all the luck I need?

So here is my thing on sharks. I’m out in the water getting tasty barrels, or just hanging on tight to a clean right, and have an open wound. It’s small, and not bleeding. But enough blunt trauma, such as grabbing my rails to tight, will release the flood gates. I am not sure how much blood the shark needs to smell in order to warrant an investigation, but I don’t think it is much – especially when it is accompanied by a floundering object in a black wetsuit (i.e. a seal/me).

Shark smells the blood, he thinks to himself, “I am a lazy-ass shark, I can’t catch any fish today because I am super tired from yesterday, where which I was also lazy. So instead of playing the game respectfully and working my tail off (fake pun) to get a bite, I am just going to take a bite out of this thing that is already bleeding.” I quoted the thought only so you can tell that it is the lazy shark talking and not me.

These guys are lazy! If they can get a bite of something that is average to bad tasting, like a human, they will do it rather than fighting for something that they might actually enjoy. The King of the Ocean refuses to go out of his or her way to earn that awesome dorsal fin and extra rows of teeth – and this is what bothers me. This is what worries me; laziness.