Ignorance is Fish

This is a funny story that I'm going to record so I can keep my mind off my not-so-funny love life. (see post below).

I went to Singapore last January to go to my uncle's wedding, and catch up with family. We went to a little resort island that my uncle part-owned for a day, to have some fun. We went climbing, flying fox, soaked in jacuzzis and swum in pools. The climbing was scary - because we had to climb to the launch pad of the flying fox, climing up a big pole - VERY big pole. We were all wired up, of course, and when we got to the very top they unbuckled us. The launch pad is a little hut thingy about ten stories up from the ground, with wooden beams around it to stop people flying up to God. The beams have a little gap in between them - wide enough for a child to climb through, and they were low enough so a reasonably fit adult would be able to slither easily on top of them.

So, I was at the top of this ten story wooden thingy, which suddenly didn't seem as stable as it looked, completely unharnessed, with a guy I didn't even know gripping my arms like tourniquets, and he said climb over.

CLIMB OVER!?

Dude, I was unharnessed, you could drop me any minute to my death, and I was frickin ten stories off the ground, and you expect me to just climb casually over these bars, which suddenly don't seem to be so low anymore!?

Obviously, I made it, but that was freaky.

But that wasn't the main story. The title is Ignorance is Fish for a reason.

There was a big pond right in the middle of the island, and the restaurant was smack bang in the middle, supported by wooden beams. For twenty dollars during the day you could go inside these ENORMOUS beach balls and float around on the lake for fifteen minutes. I was the first kid to sign up, followed eagerly by my sister and cousins.

By God, it was hot! Really hot in those beach balls - after five minutes, I was sweltering and dizzy. But it was kinda fun though.

Later that day, after we had soaked in jacuzzis and showered and watched a decent amount of TV, we headed to the restaurant for dinner. One huge tables for adults, one huge table for kids, and plenty of seafood galore - it was an island, after all. Us kids wolfed down the steaming fish and cereal prawns (a Singapore speciality) eagerly, all of us standing up, armed with chopsticks and violently attacking the side dishes. We finished with a couple of fish bones, a few prawn heads, empty dishes, full stomachs and a very messy table.

On the wide balcony that wrapped the restaurant, there were a few of those Timezone-esque games and outdoor tables and chairs. After playing with the games, we looked into the now-black lake, and suddenly saw a great big pair of red eyes staring back at us.

They were fish. HUGE fish. Enormous and black, with glowing red eyes.

We dropped leftovers into the water (from the adults' table, of course - there was absolutely nothing edible left on the kids table) and the enormous fish gobbled them up. The biggest was the size of a shark - at least three metres long and as thick as a man's thigh.

And then it struck me.

I had waded in this pool. I had floated on the surface in a flimsy little beach ball. I could have been fish patty anytime.

Scary.