Greetings, subscribers! My name is Andi Nab; I'm Dan Bain's agent and am submitting this column for him. Dan's regular readers are probably wondering where he is; allow me to explain to both of you.

Dan took his son's North Raleigh Cub Scout pack to Ripley's Aquarium in Myrtle Beach Saturday for an event called, "Sleep With the Sharks." During the drive home Sunday, Dan passed out in his laptop and has since remained comatose. He was working on the following journal entry:

8 p.m. - The turnstiles open and a blue and gold swell hits the stairs. We reach the private back room and listen to the rules -- no running, find a buddy, no caffeine for kids, but decaf drinks will be available. Good. I'm thirsty from dinner at the pizza buffet.

8:15 p.m. - We embark on self-guided tour; I can't find drinks anywhere.

8:30 p.m. - We enter the 330-foot plexiglass tunnel where we'll eventually sleep. It's narrow and surrounded by sharp-toothed fish. They call it "Dangerous Reef." They expect us to sleep here?

8:45 p.m. - We emerge from the other end of the tunnel to a room devoid of drinks. Doodlebug plays with horseshoe crabs at the touch tank, where the water smells a little too funny to sample. My thirst grows.

9:00 p.m. - We enter the pirates display. The boys play with cannons while I attempt to pry the lid off a rum barrel.

9:30 p.m. - A ray splashes Doodlebug in the face. I'd call him lucky, but my mouth is too dry to talk.

10 p.m. - The aquarium closes, and our hosts take us to a classroom for a "learning experience." Some of the boys nod off. Drinks are not provided. I can no longer swallow.

11 p.m. - We go to Craft and Snack Time. I drink three gallons of pink lemonade while Doodlebug paints a T-shirt. When they finish, the boys eat enough cookies to keep them up for another two hours.

Midnight - We set up camp in the tunnel. The lights go out. Doodlebug is nervous about the sharks surrounding us, and talks to me for 90 minutes about grim ways to die. He drifts off around 1:35. I try to sleep, but there's a sawfish leering at me.

2 a.m. - Severe cramps hit. Stupid lemonade. I stand up, double over, and am nose-to-snout with a moray eel. I almost scream.

2:30 a.m. - I have to go to the bathroom. Stupid lemonade. Several barracudas track me to the end of the tunnel.

2:35 a.m. - They are waiting for me when I return, and track me back to my sleeping bag.

3 a.m. - I wake up and have to go to the bathroom again. I wish I'd just stayed thirsty last night.

3:30 a.m. - I notice a sign claiming the tunnel is strong enough to withstand several hundred elephants. But I realize elephants don't have seven rows of very sharp teeth. I won't sleep again this night.

4 a.m. - Two large sand sharks are circling me overhead. I can read their thoughts. "Hey, look -- it's my favorite! Can you help me get this container open?"

5 a.m. - Am having a staring contest with a leopard shark who's taken a keen interest in my movements. Can't it blink?

5:30 a.m. - Can sharks smell fear?

7 a.m. - The boys are up and breakfast is served. More sugar.

8 a.m. - We drive to the in-laws' house to meet up with Sweetie and Sugarbear, who spent the night in cushy beds. Sweetie will drive us home after I shower, but I'm afraid of the water. I nap on the couch.

2 p.m. - We're headed home. From the corners of my eyes, I swear I see ghostly silver things floating outside the car. Watching me. They're soooooooooooooo ooooooooooooooooooooooooo

The journal ended there, when Dan fell nosefirst onto the "o" key.

We managed to clean the drool off his keyboard and save the file.

We hope he will wake up before press time, but until then, Dan Bain sleeps with the sharks....