I love Fridays

So I lead a really good academic life... I am challenged enough in my classes that I feel like I am learning many things, and not too challenged, so I often feel accomplished and pleased with what I do. My social life is a little less productive. I am lucky to have lots of really wonderful friends; college is perhaps the only time in your life when twenty people you really enjoy are just a phone call and five minute walk away. I admit I've been less proactive about leading a bustling social life this year (so far! I have made some resolutions for the new year that I intend to keep!) and part of that is because I often just don't feel like the typical college social scene. Don't get me wrong, I love dancing and carrying on with friends. Bars with dance floors are pretty much the best things ever, but the idea of going to a college party, where song lyrics tend to include "Up in the club with all dem bitches," drinking some combination of a colorful drink for children and something that smells like it came from a hospital, and rubbing up against some stranger I might have sat by in Spanish class sophomore year have entirely lost its appeal. Any college student can tell you that driving somewhere to go out is simply something that cannot be funded on a regular basis. As a result, my college life is pretty mild and uninteresting. Any good college stories I accumulate through the week are lived by others.

In short, I live for Fridays.

I get very antsy on Thursday evening. After stealing something to eat the next day for lunch that night at dinner (its amazing what you can carry out of a dining hall in a 12 oz paper coffee cup! I once managed two healthy sized pieces of pizza!) I try and get to bed early, but my sleep is always restless because I am so afraid of sleeping through my alarm. Its set to go off at 6, but by 5:30 I can't take it anymore so I'm up. I shower, put on my uniform, eat a big breakfast, and make the long and quiet drive to the coast. Its quiet, because its morning, and even if you are in the middle of Times Square things still manage to be less noisy in the morning. Its long, because I am on the road with what seems like every other member of the LA County, and the traffic is truly bad. Even at seven am. But at least its quiet.

I show my badge in the Aquarium parking garage, and am let in. I park in the same place every day. I hop down the stairs to the bottom floor. Sometimes the speakers are turned on by then and hear salutations by recorded noises of water splashing, seals barking, whales humming, or David Attenbourough's grandfatherly voice describing the wonders beneath the sea. I slide my badge in the side staff door and am let in, feeling increasingly smug every time I do it. By the time I am within the Aquarium's main hall, I am practically skipping. I arrive with several other Education Interpreters at 9. The staff members: aquarists, biologists, trainers, have been there for hours already. Everyone is getting their breakfast at this point. By everyone I mean the animals. As soon as I get inside, the noises are no longer recorded. There is the spray sound of the hoses outside. Sea lions and seals are barking their way through breakfast. Diving birds and sea birds are calling in turns, and are answered by the lorikeets. The otters gurgle happily to themselves, and even the rays find ways to make noise by smacking their fins against the sides of their exhibits. All the while there is the steady background noise of the bay outside. By now I am sure I can power a small city with the energy of my enthusiasm.

The volunteers meet in a classroom for Morning Update. Sometimes we try out a new game for school groups, pairing the names and adaptations of unusual sea creatures with their pictures, or drawing our own. Sometimes we are sent footage by nature shows highlighting a creature or showing something never before caught on footage. We are also given out schedules, and then its time to start. By then the public is let in, and I wade through families and school groups to each of my posts, where I can usually stand behind or climb something to be out of the way and in control at the same time. I answer hundreds of questions every day. Every day, the number of times I have to say "You know, I'm afraid I don't know the answer to that" is fewer and fewer. Every day there are amazing moments, where I witness someone falling in love with part of the natural world, or that "Aha!" moment when someone learns something incredible. Every day there are horrifying moments, like when a child physically grabbed an anemone and tried to squish it with his fingers (parent came and took care of the child, I took care of the anemone, both were fine, though my heart is still recovering) or when a bat ray gets stranded on the ledge around their tank (they're curious little guys and often try and swim over the ledge). Every day I am learning too; about the species of animals in the aquarium, about the animals as individuals, and about how to share with the people who visit. Break time is spent in the Staff Library rather than the dining hall (though I'll make a visit there for a cup of water, whatever thing I managed to swipe from the dining hall the night before, a brief visit with Aquarium people friends, and always to affectionately pat the 'Toyon Bay' marking on the map of Catalina Island). And then out I go again. Often I am never at the same station twice, but sometimes I am. Sometimes I am running from one place to another, often I am giving directions to restrooms, answering when the sea lion show will start (always the same answer; this is an Aquarium. Not a theme park. Our animals aren't forced to do petty tricks for food. But they'll be fed in half an hour!), helping to find lost parents or children. Somehow or another, five hours passes, though I truly have no idea how it goes by so fast. All of a sudden its 2, and my work day is over. I go into the locker room and quietly get my bag and change out of my uniform shirt. Then I take another hour and visit some friends. This hour goes by more slowly, because the time is my own. As soon as the uniform is off, the afternoon seems to get quiet again. I go and watch the otters. They are playful and graceful, with thick, slicked back fur and black intelligent eyes. They are also all very beautiful, silver and brown, except for Sunshine, who is kind of yellow and has a plain face. She is my favorite. I say hi, and then its time to go.

The traffic is even worse on the way back. I always end up imagining the cars as different sea creatures. The smaller colorful fish- like cars darting around the slow whale- like semis. I get back in time for dinner, and this time I am the one with the stories to tell about what happened today. Then, even though its Friday and the College Weekend has begun, I spend a quiet night in my room because I am so damn tired, and go to bed around ten with thumping "Up in the cluuub seexy biiitcheeees!" pounding the windows from outside. Maybe I'll go out tomorrow night. Maybe. Its loud outside, but my dreams are dark and quiet, occasionally bits of color dart through my head, large shadows hum overhead, and there is that ever present noise of the ocean.