man about to dive into shark infested water Waterworld

Ruined by selachophobia

The thought of voyaging through the waves is enough for me to fall off my seat and break my coccyx on the floor below me, so when I realised that there was something in Stoke other than Robbie Williams and a primarily violent football team, I simply couldn’t say no.

Out of the rain and into the water

A Waterworld truly sounds like something you’d either be stunned by in amazement, or something threatening that would haunt your dreams to a point of pure insanity. Fortunately, I saw the fun side, but it wasn’t enough to stop my fears upon stepping foot in the water.

Firstly, I went by myself due to the revolting way in which I eat food and describe the noises in my mind, and this was already a ‘no no’ in the eyes of the people around me. They all arrived at Waterworld with families or as a couple, and here I was giggling as I ran in and out of the shower as I threw soap at myself. After getting past the expected excitement from showering and trying to sneak free snacks out of the vending machine, I finally realised that it was time to see what ‘waterworld’ was really about.

Depends on your preference for a day out

If the loud screams and the constant sound of gushing water wasn’t enough to already put me off, imagine my fear when I walked into the water, only to start imagining sharks circling me. Now, being totally honest, this was in no way Waterworld’s fault, not even the lifeguard who told me to stop screaming when the six-year-old inadvertently swam between my legs, but my sense of horror was unfathomable, and I simply couldn’t relax.

They provide a whirlpool, which feels like a family of sharks are closing in on you, and slides that make you envisage a shark ready to swallow you whole when you come out of the other end. None of this is done on purpose, but my brain certainly thought otherwise!

Something not to be completely sniffed at

What once stood as a childlike fantasy surrounding the opportunity to be at one with the ocean – or a moderately warm section of enclosed water in murky old Stoke – had turned into a waking nightmare. I hadn’t realised how absolutely terrified of water I was, but I know I’ll never feel the same again. It’s enough to put me off baths in case a shark bites my fingers when I rest them under my buttocks, and my anxiety has reached a point that even enjoying a glass of water seems like something of a stretch.

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