The Original Fish Room Adventure, and codicil
March 6, 2008
August 23rd, 2005 — los hermanos at Los Hermanos
My brother and I infiltrated my work today with small adhesive wall hooks and a prepared picture frame. Our destination was the Fish Room, upstairs:
My brother carried a camera to document our work.
The day was stormy and clouded over, the skies heavy with rain like a sponge that has been left in the rain. “Andy,” I said, “Andy, those clouds far off in the distance are heavy and grey, like wet silk.” At some point I actually said this.
In Mythbusters Episode 26: Salsa Escape, Jamie and Adam tested whether wet silk — specifically, silk soaked in urine — is strong enough to break iron bars. It is not. The skies this day intimated an urgent need to pee, heaven’s bladder distended by a late lunch and Mountain Dew. Heaven found a restroom just as we arrived at the restaurant: the town of Lindon. This quaint village’s rural farms and idyllic parking lots would not be spared nature’s relief, which coursed down in mighty streaming torrents. As we fled my car and ran to the building, I thought: surely we will be plunged under, yet still we bobbed back to the surface — back to the surface, where our task awaited us.
Fish Room decor.
el sepulcro de los pescados
The strike was surgical, clinical, sanitary — in short, hermetic, hygienic, and completed on schedule; that is to say in a timely fashion, without unforeseen interference from any intervening interlopers. My first idea, the seed of the plan sprouted in my brain’s fertile crevices, was to hang on one of the room’s cluttered walls a small picture of a gruesome harvesting of beluga caviar –
– like this little lady, but cut in half down the middle, bleeding, with swarthy Baltic whalers slick with her black eggs. Then I thought, if I did that I would be fired! It was critical to my mission that I not be fired.
If my brain were an animal it would be a fish, for slick as one of those it darted through a swift river of thought to a new idea, reeling in from sparkling waters an image sublimely suited to my purposes. I would print out and frame a screenshot from The Legend of Zelda: The Ocarina of Time, of Link holding up a fresh catch, thusly:
Photoshop is my *best friend*, not only for casting Link into nostalgic sepia tones, but for making the following series of pictures discernable despite the room’s dim lighting. I like the grainy, shot-on-the-fly quality of the images, because they were caught on the fly, and because it imparts a feeling of risk, as though we were filming without a license — “stealing shots” — which we were doing. The City of Lindon pursues unauthorized filmographers with prejudice.
Lighting the fuse.
The hanging.
The picture in place.
The Fish Room, after.
In our haste to flee we took no more pictures. I am indebted to my brother for capturing this escapade on camera; without his assistance, I’d have nothing to show for it, or at least the shots wouldn’t have me in them, and the quality might have been better.
This post receives the Pilcrow Seal of Approval.
Codicil — on February 25th, 2008, two-and-a-half years after our original escapade, I returned to the site of our conquest to examine the premises, and discover if Link was still as I had left him.
The wall hook is gone. Link’s moved to the windowsill. He greets diners at his table intimately, pressing his wares as subtly as a fisherman Maître d’. Try the halibut tacos, he whispers. They are fresh and delicious with a crisp corn shell. I have been here all these years, watching, waiting for one — such as you — to order them. Will you brave the waters? - or will you, too, disappoint me?
Yes, I knew you would.
Codicil to Codicil – I loaded the original pictures into an image editor to correct the heretofore terrible white balance. I think it did a remarkable job. If you can’t see the difference, delete your browser cache and reload the page. (Isn’t that the answer to everything?)
