For grins and giggles:
I was wise enough to know the vertical rear fin wasn’t that of a dolphin, dolphin flukes are horizontal, and unlike a shark’s rear or caudal fin. Funny how that technical shit goes through your brain when you see the predator headed directly at you, closing to within twenty yards, this deep water was his turf, not mine.
The mile to shore might as well have been a hundred times that, as with my dead jet ski, slowly taking on water, I wasn’t going anywhere fast.
As he passed within a few feet, he seemingly rolled ten degrees over to allow his black eye to fully survey me, as I evaluated all dozen feet of his length. Up close you can truly appreciate the elegant “killing machine” design of a fully grown Mako shark.
I pondered, as my wife was zooming within eighty to one hundred yards away on her machine, unaware, any yell from me would be inaudible, drowned out by the roar of the engine, any large motion would further compromise my craft, would this be the last chapter of my story? Would these glorious shores of Costa Rica be my final battleground?
My seeming adversary started a wide arc, coming back towards me. This was it, fight or flight time, and I was without weapon. I balled my fists and hit the motor housing of my jet ski one last time, a futile gesture with no mechanical logic, and then turned the ignition key, almost as if to say I had tried and not given up in the end, and to my surprise it started, remarkable, life from that which had been dead moments before. I throttled away, zoomed to where my wife was and signaled we should head to shore. When we were greeted by the beach staff, motors off, I almost asked my wife if she had seen the Mako, and opted instead for a bucket of cold Imperial beers, the comfort of my chaise lounge, and the solace that I had unfinished business here, the bigger question had been asked and answered this day, and I was to continue my adventures.
