Sharknado Week kicks off today, in honour of the sequel to a movie I still can’t believe got made in the first place. But it’s a bandwagon, and hey, I’m jumping on. I’m not sure I’ll be able to actually watch Sharknado 2 (by the last half hour of the first one, I was reduced to helplessly repeating “I can’t even,” over and over again), but I thought it was high time to re-share my original Sharknado post, still one of the most popular pieces I’ve ever written for this blog. Enjoy!
July 27, 2013
So I watched Sharknado (voluntarily, unlike Snakes on a Plane, which I was dragged to with eyes in full-on roll mode). I could put on my scientist hat and talk about how almost everything about this movie is impossible, from the basic premise to the way the water flows in defiance of gravity, but where’s the fun in that?
Instead, let’s talk about fear. Overwhelming, irrational fear…. of pool sharks.
You laugh like you think I’m kidding, but when I was a kid, I was possessed by the notion that hotel pools were infested with sharks.* Swimming in the pool was always my brother’s favorite part of a family road trip, but there I’d be, paddling around because my parents insisted, convinced that any moment something toothy was going to pull me under. Despite the fact that the water was perfectly clear and quite plainly empty.
Ironically, I had absolutely no problem getting in the ocean, which just goes to show that the imagination is more powerful than reality.
Which brings me back to Sharknado, in which actual sharks fall from the sky into pools, where they are apparently so disoriented they’re unable to out-swim octogenarians. But something tells me they’d still be able to out-swim me…
What about you? What childhood fears persist in the face of experience and logic? How much did you love – or hate – Sharknado? I’d love to know!
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* For about a year, I was also convinced there was a vampire in our coat closet. Walking past it in broad daylight was enough to give me the wiggins.