Crying an Ocean for Dolphins

In 2005, I wrote a farcical article for a magazine about videotaping a wedding at a country club in which the bride was so obsessed with dolphins that she insisted that the cake be dolphin-shaped, the priest show up dressed like a dolphin, and that two actual dolphins be shipped in to swim around in the club's pool.  The pool water was, unfortunately, still chlorinated, and the dolphins died during the wedding.

This dolphin story was 100% fictional.  Now we're on the same page.

I met Jennifer online and took her out to a local amusement park.  We walked by a temporary tattoo booth (one that had the semi-permanent tattoos that wouldn't come off for two weeks) and she had the idea to trade tattoos, as in, I'd pick one out for her, and she'd pick one out for me.  She added the caveat that we should each pick WHERE on the other's body the tattoo should be placed.

I picked out a small Chinese character (I forgot which... one that meant "luck" or "fortune" or "dim") and picked out her ankle as the point of application.  She then picked one out for me (one that meant "suave" or "sexy" or "dork") and she then told the guy to apply it to the back of my neck.

"No way," I said, "Veto."

She whined, "Awww, why not?"

I explained that I would have to go into work, interact with friends and family members, and that I didn't much feel like having to explain the strange new symbol on the back of my neck to everyone who would be seeing it, which would include everyone.  It's not like I could just wear a sock to cover it up.  I'm just not a tattoo kind of guy.  If you are, more power to you.

She kept protesting until I said to the guy, "Just put it on my wrist."  I figured that it would be an easy place to scrub it away as soon as the date was over.

I wasn't really feeling it with Jennifer, although I remained conversational and polite throughout the course of our time together.  We made it onto the subject of my video work.  She asked me if I had any good stories.

Thinking to joke around, I said, "Well, there was this one time in which I was at a wedding with a bride who was obsessed with dolphins..." and I told her all of the details of the fictional dolphin story, leaving out the part that it was fictional.

When I told her that the dolphins died in the chlorinated pool, she stopped walking and stared at me.

"The dolphins died?"

"It's a shame, really."

"Two real dolphins?  And they died?  Is that the truth?"

Decision time: I could have come clean and brushed the whole thing away... but her shock... her focus... her... obsession... it was too good to pass up.

I'm sorry.  I had to.

"Yes.  The story is 100% true."

"Oh my God!" her face looked like she had just been given the news of her entire family's massacre at the hands of adorable sadist mice. "They murdered those dolphins!"

"Well–"

"What did you do?  You called the police, right?"

"Well, I was there to video the wedding–"

"You did nothing?  Dolphins were dead!"

"I–"

"Dead!"

"Jennifer–"

"Did you call animal services?  The ASPCA?  Oh my God!"  Her face reddened.  She looked ready to tear me into fish-flake sized bits and feed me to something.  Probably dolphins.

I said, "You really care about dolphins."

"More than you know."

"Yes.  How much do you give a year to protect them?"

"What?"

"You know.  To the ASPCA or whatever dolphin protection charities are out there.  You're really passionate about them.  How much do you give?"

She tilted her head and dropped her shoulders.  "Nothing."

"Oh.  If only you had."

"This isn't my fault!"

"It might be."

"No!"

And so on.

Back home, that tattoo came off in seconds with a scrub brush.  What a racket.