"Dolphin meat! Dolphin meat! Nature's greatest treat! Oh what fun, it is to eat dolphin, dolphin meat!" - Marco, Sealab 2021

 

The Mrs. took this incredible picture of a big fish (I think they called it a dol-fish) as it leapt from the water to eat a child that wasn’t doing what he was told. At least that’s what The Mrs. and I told Pugsley and The Boy.

One of the places that The Mrs. wanted to take the kids was Sea World®. For some reason, the logic of having an oceanic museum in a landlocked portion of the world that nearly borders a desert eludes me. Maybe it was cheap land?

Anyhow, packed our Wilder-things and then we checked out of the hotel. I asked the nice clerk at the desk, “How do I get to Sea World©?”

Her response? “Become a killer whale.”

Okay, she didn’t really say that, but instead gave me an incredibly complicated set of directions (go South, turn left at the SEA WORLD sign, tourist) and sent me on my way.

My car has all sorts of gadgets that tell me all sorts of obscure facts about it’s functioning, such as that it’s lonely, it needs oil (wonder what that means), it’s tired of hearing the same “Scorpions” CD again and again, and how fast I’m going.

The Mrs. noted that one of the gauges indicated that within the span of several hundred feet (distance) we would soon all be using our feet (actual) to push the Wildermobile to Sea World™. And that she wasn’t at all good with that (okay, the gauge didn’t tell me The Mrs. wasn’t good with that, The Mrs. told me she wasn’t good with that, and, besides, I’d have to do all the pushing because three-year-olds like Pugsley cannot steer). That seemed awfully hot and sweaty.

So, as I passed exit after exit I reasoned, “Hey, it’s Sea World©, right, and it’s in Texas, right? They have to have the biggest gas station EVER right out front. Perhaps it has shower stalls so I can take a shower in nice, warm Super at $0.10 a gallon.”

No. There is a McDonald’s, though. Then? Everybody in the car professed a deep, soul-ripping hunger so bad that they were all sure that they hadn’t been fed in weeks. I turned around and managed to find a Chili’s® and we ate, and then to a Shell® where we fed the car for good measure.

At the entrance gate to the parking lot at Sea World©, they offered me $10 for regular, and $15 for preferred parking. I chose the regular.

If the sea were an ocean of asphalt parking lot, then I’ve seen it. The Sea World® parking lot is easily fifteen thousand miles long. I could see the curvature of the Earth as the parking lot faded in the distance. Fortunately, we had enough supplies to make the trek from our car (hence called “Basecamp” to the entrance. Some notes from my journal might explain:

Day one: Spirits are high as we make our way from the car. We hum marching songs and laugh often.

Day two: Entrance still not in sight. Spirits still high, but somewhat depressed that we forgot sunscreen. The Boy upset that I had him set up the tent in the back of a Dodge Ram™ pickup we passed on the way. Hard to drive the tent pegs through the pickup bed.

Day three: It is clear that we have not provisioned well enough for this trek. All hungry and filled with despair.

Day four: Ate stroller. Rubber wheels chewy.

We finally made it to the main entrance. They charged for all, even Pugsley. Cost: $206. Not kidding. Would have been more but I had a coupon for $2 off. Really.

Despite the fact that I mortgaged my kidney, I must say that Sea World® was really, really neat, and (it makes my cheap soul whine) probably worth the cash – everybody had fun for hours. You can only imagine how I’d whine if I’d gotten there and it was just a fish in a jar.


Instead, we had hours of fun, and I only lost my left hand when that wild loose seal attacked.

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