Eating shit at Jaws would never quite make it on my bucket list for a handful of reasons: 1) Every time a living organism falls at Jaws they face a slightly serious situation where life may cease to exist. 2) If your body doesn’t simultaneously implode and explode upon impact, your next best scenario is drowning, and nothing about that sounds too appealing. 3) By throwing myself in harm’s way, I’m also putting every other person around me and water patrol in a precarious situation where I may become the cause of their death too. 4) Regardless of my beating heart, I’ve got the local guys up on top of the cliff filming me and providing their play-by-pay commentary (“Ho fukah, one haole boy like donuts”). 5) There’s a perfectly good couch at home that allows for me to watch these wipeouts in a comfortable, enjoyable setting…where I also feel empowered to pass my own almighty false judgment.