Melissa Haynes - Learning to Play with a Lion's Testicles

1. Do not do number two in the toilet, only number one. It doesn’t flush properly, and anything you leave in there will be left for the next person.

2. Do not throw up on the deck or inside the cabin. Do it overboard, just make sure a shark doesn’t jump out of the water and bite your head off.

3. When we tell you to get in the cage, move quickly, do not hesitate.

4. Do not try and touch a great white shark.

5. Sometimes, a shark will get so close to the cage that he’ll put his nose in. Do not freak out; remain calm and, again, do not try and touch him.

6. You will not have a weight belt; you have to hold yourself under water. Only hold on to the upper-inner bar of the cage, do not hold on to the outer bars, as a shark can take off your hand just by grazing it.

7. Keep your feet hooked under the lower-inner bar. Do not allow your legs to leave the cage, for the obvious reason.

8. Fear can make you lose some of your senses, like hearing; we will shout orders to you, so you can hear us.

9. You will not be given an air tank; instead, you will hold your breath underwater.

10. When I shout left, hold your breath, pull yourself down by the bar, and look to the left. If I shout right, look to the right. Try and stay down as long as you can.

11. In the case of an emergency, life jackets are stowed under the benches.

The place we are going is called Seal Island. It often appears on documentaries during Shark Week on Discovery Channel. Seal Island, or the mini market, as it’s often called, is a stopover point for the sharks on their way west, where their big feeding ground is—or as the locals call it, the supermarket.

As we approach the island, the sound of hundreds of seals sounds like the calls of lost sheep: baaaaaah, baaaaah, baaah . The smell, on the other hand, is like a kitty litter box multiplied by a thousand, and it hits everyone at the same time, as we all start choking on the stench of urine. The captain tells us to take five long, deep breaths, and then our noses will be immune to the smell. I’m too afraid to try in case I toss the eight muffins I just ate, and instead cover my face with my shirt.

The crew hands out full-body wetsuits with hoods and masks. I go inside the cabin and pull mine on over my swimsuit, slowly, taking my time. I come back onto the deck and look down at the dark Indian Ocean and the cage that now has been suspended from the side of the boat, there is only one fellow inside, and everyone else is still changing. Damn, I had hoped to be the last one in.

The captain shouts at me. “You there! Come over here and get in the cage!” Does he not realize that getting into that cage is the last thing I want to do? I’ve been going through the motions, I’ve made it this far, but I don’t actually have to get into the cage, do I?

I do.

A crewmate helps me climb down into the cage. The cool Indian Ocean floods my wetsuit. I hold on tightly to the upper-inner bar while my feet search for the lower bar, finally hooking underneath of it.

The other tourists are taking a long time to get in. Every second feels like an excruciating hour. Hurry up, people! Get in here! Don’t you realize how scared I am? I need decoys in here, and yes, I will be the one using you as a human shield should the cage break, so hurry the hell up and get in here, dammit. My bladder is expanding by the second from all the coffee I had earlier.

“May I please get out and use the toilet?” I ask the crewmember. It’s like my brain knows if it comes up with a physiological reason for me to get out, I won’t have to get back in. After all, I have technically done it, I’m in the bloody cage.

“No, just go in your wetsuit. It’ll help attract the sharks,” he says. And he’s serious!

The guy beside me looks at me with eyes the size of dinner plates and says, “Please don’t.”

“It’s okay, I don’t have to go anymore.” My bladder is suddenly non-existent, and there is no way even a drop is going to be coming out while at sea.

Once everyone gets into the cage, the lid of the cage is lowered and tied securely in place with heavy rope. We are officially locked in. The captain throws a line overboard, just in front of the cage, with a large chunk of raw meat on it. Everyone holds onto the bar, anticipating the first command.

There is no guarantee we will see great whites, more often than not, tourists leave without one sighting. The captain says this is a rare experience because the sharks are quickly nearing extinction. And it’s not just great white sharks that are being annihilated, conservative estimates are 115,000 — 200,000 sharks are hunted every single day around the world. Yes, a day. In just the last fifty years, 90% of the world’s sharks have been hunted. And the reason sharks will be extinct in our lifetime? Soup. Shark fin soup is a delicacy in China. Sharks are hunted, finned, then thrown back in the sea to bleed to death. Sharks can’t swim without fins. And sharks can’t breathe if they’re not swimming. The excruciating death by suffocation goes beyond animal cruelty. Eliminating this item from menus will save this species from extinction. It is that simple.

“Get down, to the left!” the captain shouts.

I hold my breath and pull myself down. Gliding just a few inches past us is the most terrifying sight; a dark mass that must be fifteen feet long, much longer than the cage in which we are crouched. As soon as I see it, I scream underwater, a loud, long scream, gulping in water as I do with arms and legs flailing through the bars, outside of the cage. I come up, gasping for air, keeping my eyes on the surface of the water as his fin disappears out of sight.

“Keep your legs in!” the captain screams. “Get down, to the right!”

I pull myself down and search the water for the next super predator that is coming head-on to the cage. I grip the bar as tight as I can to brace for the impact as he smashes the cage right in front of me. His wide open jaws reveal row upon row of teeth—sharp, big teeth that are just two inches from my face. He thrashes his jaws against the cage, ferociously attacking it. I am numb, my body frozen in terror. I dare not move in case my arms or legs flail out again.

My eyes are glued on him. My breath begins to run out, the pressure is building, but I can’t move, terrified I’ll aggravate him further. This is unbelievable, it’s like a dream, yes a dream—not a nightmare, this is a dream come true!

With Fear removed, I see God in these breathtaking creatures, filling me with love, and I have an overwhelming need to protect this species. After a few seconds, he gives up and moves on, and my heart begins to beat again. I pull myself to the surface and gasp for air.

“To the left!” screams the captain.

I gulp down fresh air and pull myself down again just in time to catch the eye of another magnificent creature.

“Down, get down, to the left!” The commands are coming faster and faster. There have to be twenty sharks doing drive-bys, one after the other in quick succession; each one of them just as interested in us as we are in them.

The captain waves the meat right in front of the cage; little bits of it are breaking off and coming into the cage.

“Down, to the right!”

Another shark attacks the front of the cage, his nose pops inside the cage between me and the young man. Our eyes briefly meet, and I see in his what he must see in mine—happiness. A shark’s nose is almost on my shoulder. Time stops. My terror melts away, and I feel an immense flood of gratitude and exhilaration overtake me as I lean back, pushing myself away from the bars and the shark. He retreats as quickly as he comes, disappearing into the black sea.

I pull myself up, taking a deep breath, catching the eyes of the other tourists. This time everyone is joyous and friendly; we are now comrades.