Moon Jellies, Moon Jellies

April 7, 2005

Seeing as how it was a beautiful sunny, seventy-some-odd-degree day, what else was there to do about it but go to Coney Island?

Quiet and breezy, we arrived at a Brooklyn Cyclones baseball game being played to empty seats. Only a handful of stalls on the boardwalk were open. Shoot the Freak was.

"Shoot the freak, shoot the freak, step right up and shoot the freak," the barker called, half-heartedly.

Dunk the Creep was not..

Despite the beautiful weather, there were only a few people around. Some were focused on the sun and wore flip flops and shorts, while others were more aware of the breeze and still clung to their winter layers.

"I thought the Aquarium was further down the boardwalk than this," said Deborah, as we arrived at the entrance. And so did I. Without a full-fledged summer crowd to fight, however, we were there before we knew it.

Sea lions and otters, seals and penguins lazing on the rocks and swimming in foamy pools. "In fifteen minutes, there will be an informal feeding of the seals," sputtered the loudspeaker.

"What did they say?"

"I dunno. An informal feeding of the something or others. Let's go see the sharks."

Despite their unblinking eyes and sharp-toothed smiles, the sharks seemed docile as they swam slow, lazy circles through the murky water, and we only watched them for two or three minutes before we were as bored as they were.

"C'mon, you guys, eat something."

The jellyfish proved a little more interesting, although there only seemed to be one variety floating in several different tanks. Moon Jellies, dozens of them, glowing under fluorescent light and undulating in slow-motion to a new age soundtrack. "What kind are these? More Moon Jellies? Are Moon Jellies all they have?"

"The jellyfish store must've been running a special."

We sat on a bench in front of the "underwater city" where I fell in love with a green and yellow tropical fish. "I love that one," I said.

"I know you do," Deborah replied when I said it for a second time.

"I want to marry it."

"You should."

"I might have to go to Canada to do it, though."

"He's pretty."

"He?"

"Oh, I guess it might be a girl."

"Of course it's a girl. What do you take me for? Some kind of freak?"

We got a couple of hot dogs and drinks and sat on a bench, facing the water. On the beach, two girls clomped through the sand in long pants and platform boots past a little girl in a tank top and sandals, trying to get her kite in the air.

"I wish we had a blanket," said Deborah. "We could nap on the beach."

"I used to keep one in my Jeep," I told her. "Too bad I don't still have it."

"What happened to it?"

"It got stolen."

After all the other-worldly sea creatures we saw — the plump sea horses with their wormy tails, the delicate "alien stinger" jelly fish, the purply, mushy-headed octopus — we got hungry.

“What do you think?” said Deborah. “Should we find a place to eat?”

I looked at my watch. "At five o'clock, there will be an informal feeding of the humans."