We’ve lived in Marble Falls for six years, and the whole time San Antonio has only been an hour away. Well, we haven’t taken advantage of that; and as we’re ready for a short break from the same walls, we decide on a quick overnight trip. Sea World during the day, a nice hotel, and a meal at Boudro’s on the Riverwalk.
People say, “Sea World? This time of year? It’ll be so hot!” Well, yes, this is indeed the scorching time of year, and we anticipate sun burn, dehydration, and heat exhaustion; but Sea World isn’t open during the comfortable months. In the end it turns out not to be all that miserable. It’s cloudy, rain’s expected, and the predicted high is eighty.
The first attraction of the day is the sea lion show. It’s high school themed with the sea lions trying to graduate, and even though everyone in the audience knows that sea lions don’t know history and science, we play along as they show how accomplished they are in these subjects by flapping flippers, diving and leaping out of the water, and making soulful sea lion sounds. It’s all very silly, but also cute, especially the otter who runs around the stage, scolding every time someone litters. Explanations about how training and performing is good for the animals are sprinkled throughout the light-hearted routine. I’m dubious; though admittedly, the sea lions do seem to be having a good time. Annoyingly, the baby next to us screams and screams. Her father tries to soothe her by shaking her up and down rapidly. Doesn’t work.
Next we’re off to see the rest of the park, which has four roller coasters, each wilder and more horrifying than the last. Not my thing—but also, why? Roller coasters have nothing to do with oceanic life. For some reason the rides I would enjoy—an oversized innertube that’s certain to offer lots of splashes, and a sort of up-and-down octopus themed merry-go-round—are closed, no reason given. At least half the booths and restaurants are closed as well, so I conclude it’s a money-saving decision based on the lower weekday population, which is irritating. We paid as much for our tickets as the people who attend on Saturdays and Sundays—shouldn’t we have the same opportunities for fun and sustenance?
We stop in at the penguin house. It has a belt conveyance—step on at one end, move along and watch the penguins play on the other side of the window, step off at the other end. Here, too, a baby screams. Her father stands behind me, resting her on his protruding abdomen; and she kicks me in the back with surprising force—whack!
Next, the beluga and dolphin show, which is interesting and entertaining, though the belugas with their pale skin are sort of creepy—but their sincere efforts to please tell me that they have kind hearts. Struggling to hear over the screaming baby behind me, I listen as the announcer tells how holding these animals in captivity and teaching them to do tricks helps marine biologists know how they live in their natural habitat, how pods are formed and decisions are made within the pod; and how this information enables scientists to safely intervene with the wild population when needed, and to understand and predict their behavior.
At this point the underlying message becomes clear. Quite a number of years ago an orca killed a trainer, which caused animal rights activists to rise up in vociferous protest, accusing Sea World of cruel exploitation. So now, in reaction, during every show the internment and training of these animals is touted as a valuable aid to biologists, the environment and, by extension, all mankind. We’re told that Sea World saves animals in distress and provides injured creatures safe harbor and medical care. Also, a major portion of the money Sea World takes in goes toward animal rescue and efforts to save the oceanic environment. So now I understand why a bottle of water at Sea World costs four dollars and a piece of chicken accompanied by cold fries costs fifteen dollars—it’s all for the animals. This place should be called Saint Sea World!
The restaurants and rides clear out as everyone in the park makes their way to the orca show. And it is wonderful! How majestic the beasts! In comparison, how tiny the trainers—yet how powerful they are to hold sway over the huge animals! How impressive the whales’ synchronized leaps! We all go “Ooh” and “Wow.” And during this show, too, we’re told how helpful Sea World is for science and our planet and, by extension, the universe.
Also in the orca show, a screaming baby. “Waaa!” she cries as she kicks the back of my bench. “Stop it or I’ll carry you out of here!” a man forcefully warns. He says it at least ten times, each time in a more agitated tone, but he never actually tends to the howling infant.
It occurs to me that these furious babies have all been girls and that the adults in charge have been their fathers. Dads need to bond with their daughters, but taking your tiny girl to a hot crowded place and yelling at her isn’t helpful. Sea World, the birthplace of feminine neuroses.
It starts raining after the orca show and we both decide we’ve had enough. We get soaked on the way to the car, and my hat, which is cute but more for show than protection, disintegrates into a mushy pile of straw.
We check in to the hotel, relax a while, and then step out on to the Riverwalk. At Boudro’s we settle at a table beside the water to people-watch. I have a bloody Mary and David has a martini. People stroll along, old and young, all races, all sizes. A guy, mid-twenties, comes toward us. Wearing cargo shorts and a white sleeveless T-shirt, he’s got antlers taped to his head. I point him out to David. When the guy sees us looking at him, he shoots us a dirty look.
“I will never understand why, if people don’t want you to notice them, they do weird things like tape antlers to their heads.”
David shrugs in puzzled agreement and we both turn our attention to the other side of the river where a tall woman wearing a short dress with thigh-high boots, and with her face painted Smurf blue, marches purposefully alongside a man wearing only a swimsuit and a Santa Claus hat. Also, bare feet.
Yay! Magnificent!
The grin makes him look happy, so it must be true.
We came across at least ten of these in the park. What’s the deal?
Our view of the Riverwalk from the hotel’s deck.
