bikinibottom
Guest
So.....I was gearing up for my weekly feeding dive at work yesterday & I decided (on a whim) to borrow a shorty 
for the dive since I've been considering buying one. I suit up, purge the hooka, don my mask & gloves, grab the food bags and sink into my second home.
All is well, but I have one of those nagging "something is going to go wrong" feelings in the back of my head. I dismiss the "ESP" sensation as stress and a busy day and go about my business. The fish, sharks, rays & eels follow me to the display window....where I wave at the crowd, settle in on the bottom, nudge the trigger fish away from my booties (they attack your feet), pet the ray & sharks, and wait for all my fishy friends to settle down.
Everyone assumes their positions, I open the bags and the feeding proceeds. A piece of fish to you, stop biting my booties, and a piece of fish to you, oh here comes the eel, and a piece of fish to you, let go of my glove, and a piece of fish to you, get out of my hair, and a piece of fish to you.....and then it happens.....
.........One of our banded bamboo sharks latches on to my arm right below my gloves. OUCH!!!! :11: :11: :11: :11: Gut reaction is to jump up while screaming like a pansy, sissy girl and to beat the shark on the head until it lets go....gnawing, gnawing... But as I'm kneeling in front of the public & we are doing "our duty" to dispell the myths that sharks are....gnawing, gnawing....thoughtless killers, all I can do is sit there with this 3 foot shark....gnawing, gnawing....attached to my arm and wait. I wait, and I wait. I wait for what seems like an eternity, but I know it was less than 30 seconds. Finally, the gnawing stops & he lets me loose. And what does he get as his reward for letting me go? That's right....a piece of fish.
The rest of the dive proceeds as normal. Everyone's fed; everyone's happy. I vaccuum the substrate, I scrub the window....all the while thinking to myself....
"Do NOT buy the shorty. Do NOT buy the shorty. Wear your full suit, you idiot."
So now here I sit, nursing the world's biggest hickey on my arm, with the memory of the sensation of gnawing, gnawing...& wondering where my next "war wound" will be placed. Of course, my kids think I'm the coolest mom in the world because I survived a shark bite & they can't wait to tell all their friends. Of course, they don't care that it was a banded bamboo shark......they just know it was a SHARK. LOL.
for the dive since I've been considering buying one. I suit up, purge the hooka, don my mask & gloves, grab the food bags and sink into my second home.All is well, but I have one of those nagging "something is going to go wrong" feelings in the back of my head. I dismiss the "ESP" sensation as stress and a busy day and go about my business. The fish, sharks, rays & eels follow me to the display window....where I wave at the crowd, settle in on the bottom, nudge the trigger fish away from my booties (they attack your feet), pet the ray & sharks, and wait for all my fishy friends to settle down.
Everyone assumes their positions, I open the bags and the feeding proceeds. A piece of fish to you, stop biting my booties, and a piece of fish to you, oh here comes the eel, and a piece of fish to you, let go of my glove, and a piece of fish to you, get out of my hair, and a piece of fish to you.....and then it happens.....
.........One of our banded bamboo sharks latches on to my arm right below my gloves. OUCH!!!! :11: :11: :11: :11: Gut reaction is to jump up while screaming like a pansy, sissy girl and to beat the shark on the head until it lets go....gnawing, gnawing... But as I'm kneeling in front of the public & we are doing "our duty" to dispell the myths that sharks are....gnawing, gnawing....thoughtless killers, all I can do is sit there with this 3 foot shark....gnawing, gnawing....attached to my arm and wait. I wait, and I wait. I wait for what seems like an eternity, but I know it was less than 30 seconds. Finally, the gnawing stops & he lets me loose. And what does he get as his reward for letting me go? That's right....a piece of fish.
The rest of the dive proceeds as normal. Everyone's fed; everyone's happy. I vaccuum the substrate, I scrub the window....all the while thinking to myself....
"Do NOT buy the shorty. Do NOT buy the shorty. Wear your full suit, you idiot."
So now here I sit, nursing the world's biggest hickey on my arm, with the memory of the sensation of gnawing, gnawing...& wondering where my next "war wound" will be placed. Of course, my kids think I'm the coolest mom in the world because I survived a shark bite & they can't wait to tell all their friends. Of course, they don't care that it was a banded bamboo shark......they just know it was a SHARK. LOL.
