During this trip to Utila, I spent an abnormal amount of time staring at birds. It helped me to realize I don’t want to be a bird. Nope. I always thought I would because flying any time I want and shitting on people and cars seems like a dream. But I have a feeling I would really be frustrated without hands. Hands and arms are just the kind of limbs I like. I’m sorry if you don’t have any. You’re probably used to it. And I am sure birds are as well. But I would prefer not to pick everything up with my feet or mouth. It just seems unsanitary. I don’t even let people sit on my bed with clothes on, so picking everything up with my mouth wouldn’t do it for me. Plus, I’d have to taste everything I picked up, even materials for building my nest. That would be like licking the wood at Home Depot. Not for me, thanks.
I went diving here in Utila, and I got to thinking that maybe I could deal with the no-hands thing if I were a fish. As evidenced in The Little Mermaid, living under the sea is pretty spectacular. There are rainbows of color at every turn, treasures, shipwrecks, and thingamabobs aplenty. After hours of quality time with the Honduran fish, I couldn’t tell two parrotfish apart (I think I’m racist.), but I did want to be one.
I also saw a huge crab. His body was larger than my head and his legs almost as long as mine. I screamed underwater because, damn, that was a big crab. Utila has somewhat of a crab infestation. On land they scamper around like bunnies. This crab part has nothing to do with anything, but holy shit, that was a big crab.
What I most noticed about the Utilan fish is their intelligence. They can easily gather themselves into a military-like formation in a millisecond. And to protect themselves from bigger fish, they travel really really really tightly packed in together so they look like one bigger fish. Brilliant. I wish I would have used this technique back when I was going to dance clubs.
As far as relationships go, most fish prefer to travel with friends. Or maybe they’re into family or their parents are really protective. Either way, there are never fish traveling alone. I thought that was sweet. I’m quite a loner now, but I like friends. I think.
Coral reefs are a marvel. Some look like flattened pieces of gum, some like brains, and others like they’re waving to you. Lots of corals around Honduras are dying because of the pollution, so there are plenty of areas that look like coral ghettos, devoid of color and torn apart. It’s obvious the drugs and shady stuff happen there. Still, it seemed most fish got along regardless of the neighborhoods from which they came. They’re above judgments– more reason to look past the lack of arms. They all seem to get on fine with different races as well. Sergeant fish swim with barracudas and clown fish with those weird ones who look like sticks. Fish seem fine with mingling with other species too. Some even eat the food that grows off the underbelly of bigger animals. Ok, that’s gross. I would never eat some mold that grew off my fat neighbor, but I like that fish are resourceful. And that they’re colorful. Deep down under the sea, the colors of fish are so bright and so vibrant, it’s as if you’re in an eighties music video or a neon factory. I could definitely be a fish. Not that I particularly liked the eighties, but I have a thing for neon (No, I didn’t like the eighties. Stop gasping. I hated my hair and my face, and I was too young to use cocaine for confidence. Sorry).
Watching all these fish really brought to my attention the audacity of humans who think we’re the supreme species. Why? Because we have buildings and ring pops and penicillin? Fish don’t even need any of those. Because we can talk? Fish can communicate without having to remember stupid grammar rules. Because we have memories? Think of how many times you’ve heard someone say ‘I’ve been hurt in the past, so I’m just too scared to get close to you right now.’ Because we can kill other animals for our food? Oh yeah, cows put up such a fight. Because we can get dogs to wear sweaters? No comment.
So, maybe next time we’re using our hands to flip the bird or turn on ‘Real Housewives of New Jersey’ or sext someone a picture of our penis, let’s just take a moment to be humble and remember our fish friends.
I think the reason I love parrotfish so much is because they remind me of my Caboodle.
The long and thin stick fish is not used in fish magazines to make all other women fish feel fat.
Possible set for Poison video circa 1986 or fish abode?
