this was written to be read. the prompt asked to write about a time you were scared.
I never understood why they say you’re ‘scared’ shitless’, when shitting or the sensation of shitting is all you can do or think about. It was something we had planned for weeks. And for weeks, I had done my research. I had conversed with the company via email, I had discussed the details with my friends. I had watched videos on You Tube. I knew what the process was going to entail. But for some reason, as the boat heaved up and down at a speed that made me grab my seat desperately, and land grew further and further away and the temperature grew colder and colder, the fear grew louder and louder. My heart rate increased, my bladder filled and my bowels moved. The surge of adrenaline had put me in fight or flight mode and since there was nowhere to run to, I knew I had to go through with it.
As the boat slowed down, and the roar of the engine became a light murmur, the excited chatter of the passengers grew louder and louder. Stories were shared about previous similar adventures. I pretended to be engaged, hoping my fear was well hidden behind my ray bans.
As one guide announced that we were to immediately change into the diving suits, another pulled a frozen fish head, the size of a large watermelon, out of a cooler and attached it to a pole. Changing into the gear was the worst. The suit was damp, the floor was slippery and the tide caused the boat to lurch in a manner that disoriented me. Once half the suit was on, I learned with exhausting disappointment that it was too big and began to peel off the layers. I despised that moment. I wanted to be back in the hotel room, over 100 miles away, in the heart of Cape Town, sleeping in the warmth of the king sized bed. Not out in the middle of nowhere on a boat in the midst of pushing and shoving, struggling to get a suit on, feeling as incompetent as a 3-year-old. After much struggle, I was out of the large suit and in the right sized one. My travel companions- my sister and her best friend- were already in theirs, and enjoying selfies with the blue ocean gleaming behind them.
I decided I would go first. I had to get this over with. I had enough adrenaline in me for 5 small children about to get on their first roller coaster ride. I had to get it out. My insides churned again and I clenched in fear.
“Ok we got one!” screamed one of the guides “first group in!!”
I stood up with 5 others and goggles were thrust at us. My peers quickly put them on with the efficiency of people who were used to this kind of thing, while I struggled to find the right placement for my nose. So much talking, so much excitement, so much happening at once. Including the rise of my heart beat. I couldn’t think of the future or the past. This moment was my life. And I felt like it would never end.
With support from one of the guides, I was lowered into the freezing salty water, into the cage attached to the side of the boat. We were to float in the cage with our heads above water until the guide motioned for us to dive.
Because the boat was heaving, the cage was heaving and we were heaving. I began friendly conversation with the man to my left. I usually found that admitting fear calmed my nerves but it didn’t work in this scenario. I asked him to review the diving procedure with me, to help me identify the correct bars to grab during the dive. He was gracious. And I was half attentive. I already knew what to do. I just needed to be calmed down. As we waited for the shark, which was being baited with the frozen fish head, I discovered he was also from California, and he discovered that I couldn’t swim. I always found it best in bodies of water to warn people of the handicap in case of emergency.
The trembling, the heart rate, the adrenaline.
The cage, the heaving, the ice cold water.
The chatter, the fish head, the imminent dive.
And then it happened. As quick as my next heart beat, I felt my chest and stomach tighten and my head lurch forward as I disposed into the water last night’s dinner. My eyes watered as undigested chunks of garlic nan and shai paneer gathered on the water’s surface.
“Ok, everyone, just push the pieces out of the way” I heard a voice say from the above. And the 5 other divers with support of the current moved the vomit away from them. I apologized as I used the salt water to clean my mouth and wipe my face down. My heart rate had slowed but the fear was still there.
About 4 minutes later, it arrived, and we were told to hang on to the internal bar, dive and look right. And there it was clear as the day above us, just inches from my face, a great white shark. After 2 more dives, we were extracted from the water so the next group could go in.
My heart had definitely retuned to normal. I began the impossible task of changing out of the suit praying to God that I didn’t soil myself in my moment of despair. I hadn’t. But I wouldn’t have been surprised if I did. Before we headed back for shore, I vomited twice more and in the process lost any integrity I had boarded with. Upon arriving at our hotel 4 hours later, I ran to the bathroom.
Weeks and months later I would reflect on the moment and recall how despite my fear and the endless vomiting, at least I had the restraint and decency to clench and hold it in.
travelgiveworklove 