A Tale of Two Aquariums

My emotional journey through Monterey Bay Aquarium

*View from the top deck to Monterey Bay ©Ian Hanson*

Includes some strong language.

I was hot, red hot. My pulse was elevated, I couldn’t cool it down. The crowd couldn’t get out of my way fast enough. I wasn’t pushing anyone, but I was the only one trying to escape the tightly packed tourists. My inherent Minnesotan skills were fully engaged.

“Excuse me, I need to sneak through here…” I said to a distracted assembly, employing nothing sneaky about my escape. I couldn’t stay here.

The rest of the day was spent analyzing and trying to understand how I went from quietly enjoying the feeding of the sea otters to escaping them.

“Dick…” he had muttered to me under his breath.

That’s what did it. That’s exactly what turned me on, flooring my gas from a rumbling engine on a starting line to a streaking blur for the finish line.

This spot had been mine for the last fifteen minutes, guaranteeing myself a view of the day’s first feeding. The only blog post recommendation I read echoed, “…take in as many feedings as you can…”. Photography on this trip had taught me to be early. I wasn’t. I took the best spot available, behind a couple with a slim view. Good enough, I chucked it up to research for landing a better spot later.

When the mammalogists came out and started flinging fish bits, the otters got going. They wanted those minced meats. Flesh flew everywhere, sticking to the glass in hunks. I raised my phone to get an obligatory social media video.

“Come on man put your phone down,” came from someone behind me who was tapping my shoulder.

This wasn’t my first rodeo. At literally every event, performance, or touristy viewpoint, people use their phones to get pictures. Who was this, had he never been to one before? Did he not realize I wasn’t going to film the entire thing with my phone up? Could he not wait ten seconds for me to get a shot?

I’ve checked the footage, my phone was in his way for three seconds before he commented.

“Sorry dude,” the best response I could think of. The don’t-get-in-trouble kid inside was activated. I was already out of my element.

“Put your phone down I can’t see anything.”

I had nothing for that. Disgruntled, I turned back and muttered under my breath, “What the fuck.”

The show now was unwatchable. I never developed a personal strategy for confrontation. They simply never happened, avoiding it was one of my strong suits. Why was I even here now if I couldn’t take a single picture, catering to some dude who had shown up at the last minute and was now dictating my every move.

Obviously the melodramatic me was in full swing.

Unable to simply move on, I had a better idea. Why don’t I engage with him again? Maybe that will cool things off. I turned around to address him.

He wasn’t even looking at the otters.

I waited until he turned back around. “Can I just take a quick video, ten seconds is all I need.”

With a decent hint of lip, he responded, “Yeah as long as it’s not in my way at all.”

He obviously did not understand how cameras or lines of sight worked. I thought I had asked nicely. From my vantage point, I could barely see anything myself, of course I would have to put it in his way. That’s why I was asking permission. “Just ten seconds and I’ll be done.” I turned to make my video.

“Dick.”

Ok, so niceties were lost on this guy. Standing in front of someone who just shat on my experience meant I was not going to enjoy any of it. I was already wound up, and no one ever calls me a dick. I brilliantly quipped, “This is stupid, I’m done.” or “Whatever man.”

“Good,” was his detached, emotionless response. I noted that he was significantly more calm than I was. This meant nothing to him. Why did it bother me so much? Didn’t matter, I needed to leave. When I passed him, he pushed me in the back.

In college, I remember so many classmates switching degrees to get one in psychology. More employable than spending my BFA in Musical Theatre? Who knows but it would have helped me understand motive right now. In theatre, actions were motivated by what characters want. Did he want me to move faster? Did he want to dominate me? Was he trying to dominate me?!?

“What the fuck man?”

Oh, I was getting good now. Good and riled up. Quipping quips never heard before. He didn’t respond, didn’t even look at me.

“Did you just fucking push me? Don’t fucking touch me!!!”

If you and I ever play the convivial game of ‘Never-Have-I-Ever’ you will have this bit of trivia at your disposal. I have never been in a fight. A primal, subconscious, wilder version of me wanted to settle this petty moment in a full-on brawl. Because right now I was already on my back foot, tucking tail and getting pushed to boot.

A drunk me in a bar would not have stood for this.

A sober me in a crowd of families was going to take it.

After the brief cursing, I pinballed my way through the crowd. When would it end? When would the people end? This weak heart who only road rage yells from the safety of a sealed environment, needed out.

I disappeared into the darkness of the jellies to cool.

Attempting to lose myself in the nothing. *©Ian Hanson*

This was not me. An agitated me had spouted words quoted verbatim from some well-scripted television show that lived in deep recessions.

Around me, the jellies pulsated and pumped water while invisible currents spun them around in silent circles. Their antipodal state of mind was what I craved. Empty, nonexistent. To be a conglomerate of muscles and fishy bits or nerve endings and whatever, simply pulsing to the beat of their own primordial programming.

I waited patiently for the crowds around each exhibit to disperse before approaching the glass. “Why couldn’t that guy have patience like this, attempting to glorify my approach, “I’m not pushing anybody around. Shit, that lady walked right in front of me taking a picture, I’m not even going to say anything to her.”

My thoughts were streaming from every which way, getting darker and darker as I walked further and further into the tenebrous caverns of sea creatures.

“Maybe that’s how he always gets his way, pushing people around. I feel sorry for that girl with him, but she chose that. I bet he voted for…”

Stop it! Who is saying this? Were these my thoughts? They were starting to scare me, reacting too harshly to a truly small infraction. Here I am mentally dabbling at name-calling and labeling and even flash contemplated a brawl? This isn’t about him or the experience anymore. It’s become a moment of truth about myself. “I am not a monster, this is a poor emotional reaction to a bully that’s all.”

He was a bully. It was right there. Feeling pushed around and belittled, I let the bigger, louder person win and I didn’t like that. I needed to turn this around. Regardless of the emotions, the choice was yet mine to decide how to react. If I saw him again, I would apologize. We’d become chums, right there. I’d say,

“I think we got off on the wrong foot back there. I’m sorry that my phone was in your way. If you could have waited just five more seconds….”

Nope, not yet ready for an interaction.

I tried photography for the next hour or so. There was a dismal emptiness to it. The $60 entry fee had been a stretch yet I pulled the trigger and now it was a emotional exercise instead of the glorious peaceful walkabout I had imagined.

Turning corners and reading placards brought deeper, cleansing breathes. At the next two feedings, the open sea creatures and the kelp forest, I am certain I caught him out of the corner of my eye. My imagination cursed me through the lens of his viewpoint. He must be having a ball making fun of me behind my back.

“You’re not that important. This is not important. Nobody else cares. YOU are giving him this power over you.”

By mid-afternoon, I was cool and enjoying the aquarium again. My camera battery was dangerously low and I wanted the macro lens which I had left in my car. I hiked back, made a sandwich out of the trunk, and walked back with new supplies.

The plan for the last few hours was to catch a couple of the video presentations, return to the jellies with new lenses and hope the crowds were down. Return with a focus, a purpose, and a clear head.

Interactions throughout the rest of the day were great.

I was in full Minnesota mode again, apologizing to everyone regardless of who bumped into whom. “Sorry! Whoops! No worries! It’s a Nikon Z9! Wow, that’s a big fish!” Staff answered my questions, and none of them called me out though secretly I harbored the idea they all now referred to me as, “the guy who yelled ‘Fuck’ at the otters.” Everything was good.

Then I sat down to watch, “Journey to Baja.”

I took a seat in the front row of the small theatre. I wanted full immersion in the projected image. Next to the screen was a podium. A woman prepared materials. The lights dimmed and her microphone came on. She introduced herself. She was cute.

The presentation described the migrations of three animals from the waters outside the aquarium and their journey to Baja, Mexico. We watched aerial videography and emotional photographs of gray whales, brown pelicans, and elephant seals. I had thought the movie would be just that, a movie. Yet here it was interpreted by a professional, her voice riding the emotional arc of the animals’ stories. Her presentation was polished, flawless. Between glances at the screen, I threw a couple her way. Was she looking at me as well?

The show ended on a note of marine awareness with an emphasis on what we can do to help these species continue to thrive. She announced she was available for questions. I wasn’t sure what I was going to ask but I had to ask something. I strode up and opened my mouth,

“So, those elephant seals. I’m a photographer and I would like to make some work that exemplifies the kind of stuff we got to see in the presentation. I’m wondering, do you have any recommendations on where to go to witness this?”

“Well, have you heard of Elkhorn Slough?”

“Yes, a trucker in Nebraska actually recommended I stop there so it was on my list.”

“Ok, so you need to get there early and get a kayak…”

She was well-versed in everything ocean and the local area. I was given recommendations on everything from the Channel Islands to Wilder Beach State Park. Point Lobos, Elkhorn Slough, probably fifteen other places. I listened and nodded and interjected what little I could, luckily my knowledge of the area was all freshly learned and readily accessible so I could say, “Oh yes that!” or “Oh I’ve heard of it, I was just thinking about going there.” Honestly, I should have been taking notes but at the same time, I knew I wouldn’t be able to do it all.

“Are you local?”

For the second time today I questioned motivation.

“How long are you going be here?”

All fair questions. Time ran out when the next presenter took the podium, and she took off rather quickly. I plunked again in the front row. While I became engrossed in the glowing world of bioluminescence, I wondered if I would find her again.

“Oh there you are, I found you.”

I had been staring at the open sea aquarium. Checking and culling the chaff off my camera to determine what to shoot on a third and final pass through the jellies. Up the stairs next to me came a familiar…pleasant voice.

“Wanna see some cool behind-the-scenes things?”

“Uh, yeah I do,” I coolly replied.

“What do you think, bts of the jellies or above the kelp forest?”

We took off and pushed open the doors to the back hallways of the aquarium. I had a quick flashback of my days working for Santa at the Mall of America. All of our trash had to travel behind the scenes, through a network of interconnected sheetrock walls that was a stark contrast to the scenes of rampant consumerism on the front-facing side. Here the halls contained lecture rooms, offices, and spaces visited by tourists who chose to purchase the behind-the-scene tours.

Had she actively been looking for me? Certainly, she wasn’t wandering aimlessly, deciding spur of the moment to offer up a quick tour upon spotting me. Had she walked the entire aquarium? Had I told her where I was going to be?

Photography has opened some doors. So has showing genuine interest, asking good questions, and being a good person. For the rest of the day, as the general aquarium-goer was getting pushed out of the exhibits and gently reminded that they were closing, I was being led around behind critters, touching jellies, and holding my breath at the tank edges that felt indecipherable from cliff edges.

“Well, I just got you like a hundred dollars worth of free stuff.”

We had been laughing, cracking jokes, recognizing the irony that though we had just talked about reducing plastic use and saving the planet, the items she needed for an evening training were all individually wrapped in thin sheets of the stuff.

“Believe me, I know. I wish I could do something to thank you. I can throw that plastic away for you. I’ll just toss it over the balcony into the bay and get it over with.”

We stopped walking at the top of a set of stairs. Turning to me she said, “Well I have to get to training some volunteers.”

“Yeah you do. I don’t have any plans, haven’t thought about what I’m doing for dinner yet. Would you want to get something when you’re done?”

A contemplative sunset on Monterey Bay. *©Ian Hanson*

My feelings on the steps down were a far cry from how I had felt earlier that day. I was lighter, faster, breathing deeply with ease.

She had politely avoided saying yes or no, and I assumed it was a courteous decline. Without wanting to push her further, I bid my farewell and we parted ways.

Continuing the trend of overanalyzing, I couldn’t help but wonder if I should have pushed harder. Was she testing me? Should I have invited her for a drink somewhere after her dinner plans? Had she come to find me because she wanted to see me again or simply to be nice? Should I turn around right now and try to find her again? Am I fucking this up right now?!?

Real life did not have the soundtrack or the award-winning writer to script me a moment of true love that would propel me sprinting back down the hall. Instead, I settled in front of the now tourist-less sea otter tank. They cruised and twisted effortlessly through the water, propelled by an unseeable force of nature. I turned to the guy next to me…

“Is that a Fujifilm?”

It was a pleasant exchange. Like many I had had on this trip. The girl at Pfeiffer Big Sur State Park who was also from Minnesota, or the environmental engineer who car camped also, the guy whom I photographed Lonely Cyprus with and later contemplated the stars and photography and travel. Not to mention my personal tour.

My thoughts wandered to earlier in the day. The vindictive, petty portion of me said, “I bet that guy didn’t get a tour like that…”

I shut it down. It didn’t matter. The truth was that outside of one single experience, I had had a full day of great ones. Here at the very spot where I had been pushed by a stranger for the first time ever, I connected with another.

Waiving to the employees who were now sweeping, emptying trashcans, and holding doors open for us last few, I laughed to myself.

My trip to the aquarium had nothing to do with the animals.

I couldn’t have been happier.

Blog — Portfolio