Went shark-cage diving, which should really be called shark cage dipping. After spending far too long struggling to get into a wetsuit, you’re lowered into a metal cage that’s just large enough for four people to stand in. There are two bars to hold on to, which you use to pull yourself down and look at the sharks that are being attracted to the boat.Our guide asked who wanted to be in the “hot-seat” which I quickly claimed. Apparently we saw a total of 8 great white sharks--not that I could tell them apart. This one shark during our “dive” was not afraid of getting close. The hot-seat ended up being very hot when the shark bit the cage directly in front of my face. This happened three different occasions. The first time, I made sure to stay still and stare into her eyes (rather her mouth) despite it being only inches away from my face. But each time my courage faded. By the end, I was inching away and grasping Hannah’s hand for life. The dips were only interrupted by gasps of breath followed by continual screams of “Oh my God” and fanatical laughs. Ellen coined a suitable nickname I’m not sure if I deserve: shark-whisperer. But I can’t say I object. Especially after enduring this in my face:
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