GA Aquarium and the Stingrays

Yesterday was phenomenal.

I went to the GA Aquarium. I've never been to an aquarium before, let alone the largest one in the world.

Like I said, phenomenal. The otters were my favorite. I bought an otter plush at the gift shop to set alongside my large ferret puppet (Pepopowitz), my small ermine ferret plush (Orville), and my plush rat (Theodore). This one I named Maggie, named after one of the original otters themselves. All five were girls, which I found a great convenience sine I decided my plush otter would be female. (I tend to oddly lean towards boy-names. All my critters are boys too-- Rudyard my ferret, and Vincent and Liam my rat babies).

Also, I got to touch a stingray!
I've always thought of myself as a very brave person. The biggest phobia (maybe my only one...)I have is vomiting. I've never hesitated to touch other critters, especially when they've been deemed safe.

But my heart pitter-pattered in a way I never realized it could. I was actually afraid to touch the stingray. I kept telling myself, "Look, everyone else is doing it. This is the petting zoo of the museum. It's okay."

But did my brain and nerves connect?!?!
Well, in a literal sense, sure, but not in the way I mean.

Sam said, "Put your hand in the water and just leave it there. They'll just slide under you. They don't care."

I did as he told me, but as a stingray approached I retracted my hand before I could think. I didn't even realize that I had done so. It was an instinct; it was my 'fight or flight' reaction and I had fled.

"We're not going anywhere until you touch one," Sam told me, his fancy Canon poised, ready to shoot me as living proof.

I don't know how long we spent there. I really don't. But finally I said to myself, "Fuck you palpitations and nerves! Here I go!"

With one very deep breath, I submerged my hand in the water. It circled my wrist, and I held my breath as a stingray glided towards me, making his rounds about the little pool as if it were a normal day.

I saw his little "wings" as they glided through the water. A slow and silent flap rippling and pushing him along. His small thread-bare tail followed him harmlessly. His filters flapping back and forth, following their own rhythm.

He settled beneath my fingers. He knew the drill. I touch his back. "My God," I thought, "You are so slimy!"

Just as quickly as he graced his presence for me and me alone, he glided off prepping himself for the next little hand to dip in the water for him.