Nina In New York: Told You So (This One's Also About Sharks)

A lighthearted look at news, events, culture and everyday life in New York. The opinions expressed are solely those of the writer.
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By Nina Pajak

It's becoming abundantly clear that, while I was half-joking on Monday about my being the next Nostradamus in matters of wild paranoia, the joke is on me. Because I'm right. I'm so, so right.

Earlier this week, two teenagers lost limbs in separate shark attacks on the same North Carolina beach on the same day. They were in shallow water, up to their waists, those same shallow waters into which I refuse to wade, risking derision and mockery from those around me. Oh, Nina. You're so crazy. Sharks don't come in this close. There are no sharks here. More people die choking on hot dogs than by shark chomping. Sharks are our friends. Sharks live on Mars. Sharks are extinct. Sharks can't enter swimming pools via underground pipes that lead to the drain at the bottom.

Blah blah blah eat it, everyone.

Two kids were bitten in Florida this week, too. One was in "chest-deep waters". Both were in popular areas. And what's more, a bull shark sighting 50 feet off the coast of Virginia beach has kayakers nervous, and a twelve-foot, thousand-pound tiger shark has been spotted off the mid-Atlantic coast and is being tracked as it nears some of the area's most highly-trafficked beaches. Its name is Septima, and if that isn't the description of a dinosaur I don't know what is. I hate to beat a dead dolphin, but anyone who has been watching as many promotional airings of the Jurassic Park oeuvre on television as I have should realize this. They are dinosaur sea monsters that simply never went extinct. They've been around for millennia—you think they weren't going to try to eat us one day just because we hang out in shallow water? Girl, please. They're going to do exactly whatever the heck they want, when they want.

Oh, did I say dead dolphin? I meant dead horse. But I guess I've got dead dolphin on the brain, maybe because of this dead dolphin. It washed up on the shores of Wildwood, NJ, like an erstwhile associate of Tony Soprano. Bitten in twain, 'e was. You may say: meh, it's the ocean. Things happen. It's hard out there for a dolphin. I say: this is a message. This is the proverbial horsehead in the bed. This is them telling us that they're out there, they see us, and they don't love the things we love. Well, I mean I guess they do but not so much with their hearts as with their teeth.

I'll keep on keeping on in the pool, thank you very much. That is, once I've inspected it for drain-monsters. Call me phobic, call me crazy, just don't call me dinner.

Nina Pajak is a writer living with her husband, daughter and dog in Queens. Connect with Nina on Twitter!