From the Archives of Yesteryear when I volunteered to climb on a bus and chaperone a herd of elementary students, one of which was mine, on a field trip to California.
I’m happy to report that the Oceanography Club field trip to San Diego was a howling success. Forty pumped-up students, five untested chaperones. One bus, one boat, and about a zillion sea creatures all of whom have first and last names in Latin which contrary to popular belief is not a dead language for any of the marine biologists at the aquarium we visited.
We got to pet manta rays (slippery and cold in case you’re wondering) who actually like to be petted and kept coming back for more. Ditto for the dolphins, but then they have a people-friendly reputation to uphold and I’m sure being petted is in the customer service manual they get when they hire on at Sea World.
We saw Shamu, who is actually five separate orcas who swim around and do leaps and dives, spins, and twists like they’re juiced up on too many Starbucks.
We spent not enough time at the U.S.S. Midway which is permanently berthed at San Diego and I entertained myself by saying “captain on the bridge” while standing on the bridge. The rest of the time I was saying “watch your step” and “look out” and other admonishments to students who were one misstep away from a catastrophe.
This is normal. Students on field trips are always on the verge of doing something that will put them in mortal peril. Our job is to get them back to their parents in one piece and keep quiet about how we did it. (I tied one end of a rope around your kid and the other end around myself. Or, the reason your kid has no feeling in his hand is because I never let go of your kid’s hand the entire time we were gone.)
These are the chaperone moments that you fondly remember and prompt you to sign up for the next outing. (You forget about the terrifying moments, like when a kid is missing and you don’t know if you counted wrong or if it’s time for a full-on panic attack.)
We departed the warm and cozy bus while it was still dark and boarded the Odyssey for a three-hour tour. I kid you not. And we all know about Gilligan’s Island and how that three-hour tour ended. The first mate was only slightly amused at being called Gilligan. Anyway, we spent three hours at sea, during which we netted and released a large variety of stuff including a ticked-off species of shrimp that goes by the nickname “thumb crusher.” And needless to say, but we said it anyway, you don’t pet this guy.
Nobody fell overboard and incredibly, despite the rocking of the boat and too many snacks, nobody puked.
Next, we visited an aquarium filled with live specimens and ones that used to be live, most notably something whose name escapes me but which has got to be the ugliest fish species I have ever seen.
The thing lives in total darkness on the bottom of the ocean (where I guess being ugly really isn’t a problem) and has a built-in body light (something I could use when I’m reading at night) that it turns on to attract fish. Can you imagine all these fish stuck at the bottom of the ocean bumping into each other and wondering what time it is when suddenly someone turns on the light and they can see and they all yell “hooray” and swim toward the light only to find out that behind the light is a mouth and a nasty set of teeth and it’s a trick and the answer to “What time is it?” is “Dinnertime.”
Anyway, our dinnertime arrived and after looking at sea creatures all day you’d think the last thing we’d want is fish sticks and you’d be right. We stopped at a fast-food place and they brought our order to the bus and off we went for home. With the correct head count.
The Upstory 