Adorable Danger

Once upon a time, I was on a whale watching excursion just outside of San Diego Harbor—oddly enough, on a three hour tour. I had never been whale watching intentionally before, so I was excited that I was finally taking active control of my vision. Normally I find myself passively watching whatever you put in front of me. It felt good to make a choice.

Now I was worried from the time we set sail, because our boat was called "the Pequod," and it disturbed me that no one else was bothered by this. I just had this feeling that the whole thing was going to end badly. Also, there were Zoroastrians.

If you've ever been on a whale watching excursion, you know these boats are all manned by the same type of tour guide. It's a marine biologist who got into it for the chicks because it sounded like the sexiest of sciences. He figured he'd move to California, work at Seaworld, maybe learn to surf, whatever. But before long he realized there are only like eight guys who actually support themselves as marine biologists, and chicks aren't nearly as turned on by squid as you'd think. "But they have depth perception on par with humans!" Shut up. Anyway, we had one of these aqua hippies on our boat, and he was leaving me feeling a little uneasy, because if the whole thing goes Poseidon Adventure, he ain't no Ernest Borgnine. So Aqua-Hippie is telling us stuff like, "The California Gray Whale can weigh up to 14 tons."

He then informs us that these whales are a protected species, and it is illegal for a boat to approach them. This is something that is conspicuously absent from the brochure. Instead, if we see a whale, we have to shut off the engines and hope that it approaches us. Now I'm pissed off, because not only are our chances of seeing a whale greatly reduced, but if we do see one, it will by definition be the stupidest whale in the ocean.

So Aqua-Hippie is not instilling me with confidence, because he is saying some really dumb things. For instance, "Ladies and gentlemen, in a few minutes, we're going to be seeing tons of whales!" Well he just told us that this species can weigh up to fourteen tons, so, technically, "tons of whales" might mean just one. In fact, it might mean just part of one. It could mean as little as one seventh of a whale.

But that's when something weird happened. Off in the distance, just off the horizon, we saw a splash in the water. It wasn't a whale, it was moving too fast. Aqua-Hippie immediately zeroed in on it and informed us that it was a dolphin. In fact, it wasn't just one dolphin, it was a whole bunch of dolphins.

"We're in luck today, ladies and gentlemen, 'cause there must be at least, a dozen-no fifty...wait a hundred...two hundred..."

I look out toward the horizon and the sea is churning. As far as I can see, the ocean's is covered with dolphins. Aqua-Hippie is on the top deck, so he can see further than me, and he is flipping out!

"Ladies and gentlemen, there must be at least five hundred...eight...no, a thousand...Oh...my...God..."

And that's when it happened. I heard that rare, tiny little moment that usually only happens once in a marine biologist's career. I hear the moment when a marine biologist's excitement becomes terror.

"Ladies and gentlemen, there are at least twelve to fifteen hundred dolphins—maybe as many as two thousand or twenty-five hundred-and they are coming right at us. I have no idea what is going on."

He is not exaggerating. In fact, I think he was being conservative to keep us from freaking out. As far to my left, as far to my right, and as far straight ahead as I can see, the sea is boiling with dolphins, and they are hauling ass! They're getting closer now and I can see that they're black and brown striped, which is freaking me out because I've never seen a black and brown striped dolphin before. I'm thinking, maybe they're barracuda or a really cute kind of shark. But Aqua-Hippie reassures us:

"Ladies and gentlemen, these are a species known as the Pacific Common Dolphin."

I look over at the bulkhead next to me, and sure enough, there's a poster showing fifty or more different species of dolphins I've never seen or heard of. It's laid out like one of those visual sushi menus, and there's our brown and black striped friend, the Common Dolphin, right at the top.

I immediately find it ironic that the type of dolphin I've never seen before is, in fact, the Common Dolphin. I wonder why I've never seen a picture of one. I read. Has no one ever survived an encounter with the wily Common Dolphin? All my life, people have been telling me how smart dolphins are, now they've got me outnumbered, and I'm sure as hell on their turf. I'm thinking they're pack hunters—like the raptors in Jurassic Park—and I'm just waiting for my "clever girl" moment. I look to Aqua-Hippie for reassurance:

"Ladies and gentlemen, it is really rare to see this many Common Dolphin."

I don't even have time to go into how messed up that statement is.

By now the dolphins have reached the boat and they go by at high speed. They're squealing and chirping and—I'm pretty sure—screwing with our heads. I know that all they have to do is all push together and they can easily throw our boat around like a beach ball. And that's when I realize...we are surrounded by adorable danger. They have lured us in with cuteness, and they're going to finish us off.

Aqua-Hippie will not be able to save us. It's over. This is how I'm going down. They're pissed about the racist stereotypes in Flipper, and I'm going to pay the price. And you know what, I'm kind of happy about it, because if I'm going down, I want it to be in the weirdest way possible. I want mass, dolphin vengeance. I'm gonna be on CNN.

But then, they pass. Nothing happens. They just buzzed us--like Maverick doing a fly by. Aqua-Hippie relaxes, and it's over.

The boat continues on, and we eventually see two really stupid whales about a mile away. After the dolphin swarm, it's a big letdown. The boat turns around, and we head back towards shore. It's boring. Aqua-Hippie is trying to make it interesting.

"Ladies and gentlemen, whales feed by straining water through their baleen, catching krill and—OH MY GOD THEY'RE BACK!!!"

And I'll be damned if it isn't the same group of a billion Common Dolphin going back in the opposite direction they came! It was like they were commuting, now they're done with work and they're just heading back It's either that or a different group of a billion dolphins going in the opposite direction, and I can't tell the difference—because they all look alike. .

And that's when it hit me: they're on a people watching excursion, only they don't have to shut off their engines. They could swim up and spank us if they wanted to. All in all, they got a much better tour. We're pulling back up to the dock, everyone was a little freaked out, and I gave Aqua-Hippie one last chance to redeem himself. I looked up at him on the top deck just as he raised his microphone to his lips and said...

"Ladies and gentlemen, I just have to say one more time, it is really rare to see that many Common Dolphin."