My cousin and I had many fears, bugs, snakes, heights, airplanes but the most vast one was sharks. These fears all started from commercialized events we had seen on television.Tired of living in fear from the stereotypes we had created in our mind,  my cousin and I decided that over spring break we would go shark fishing to break our jitters. The day we never thought would had arrived. Emma and I frantically stuff pillows and life vests in our clothes,ensuring that not one inch of our sunburnt, freckled skin is showing, for the sharks to get. Emm, as an extra precaution,  takes her bleach blond hair and tucks it in the three life jackets she has on. I took a risk with my sunkissed orange hair hanging in a loose ponytail;  secretly hoping maybe a shark would bite it off.
We anxiously approach the boat. Even if I hadn’t seen the boat I would of known it’s there; it  reeked of dead fish, and bird poop. I very timidly push Emma forward making her jump on first. She blops on, “ One step for Emma, one for leap for us,” she states, trying to bring humor in, so she doesn’t look so nervous.
We both grab the shiny red fishing poles which instantly pull both our scrawny arms to the boat floor. The boat rocks back and forth like a broken down ride at a fair. With zero finesse, we drop our hooks over the side of the boat; each with half a green eyed fish head for bait. The hook drops down into the ocean like it was falling into an endless pit of darkness. In my mind, at that moment, that abyss would have been better; there would of been no sharks. We sit and wait, feeling like it’s been hours as if we were in line at Cedar Point for the Dragster. BOOM!WHISK! BLUNGE! Emma frantically screams, “ I’ve been hooked.” again trying to add banter to hide her fear. She tries reeling it in, her lanky arms not helping. The unknown mysterious creature on the other end of Emma’s hook, releases back into the water. It fidgets between our hooks for what seems like an eternity; all the while creating tension and anxiety which rise within us as the waves rise with the creature’s struggle.  It eventually latches onto my pole.  The fear dwells up in my head;  I pop it like a balloon and start to crank the lever. Each twist requiring more and more of the little muscle I have. It flips and flops and finally blops onto the boat. “ It’s a hammerhead!” someone in the crowd screams! The professionals grab the wiggling and jumping shark.  I run over not even thinking of what I was doing and pose with the razor sharp tooth creature as if he was my 1st place project in the school science fair. It was at that moment that all of my fear was handed back to me; thanks to  that shark which was now staring at me with yellow glazed eyes. Emma pet it like it was her new born puppy,  and we both take it together and throw it back in it’s lovely home, the ocean. Beaming with pride I do a slow bow, grab my pole, but this time I don’t feel weighed down, it picks me up feeling as though I could easily carry a thousand poles.