I used to like mermaids. I grew up with all the folklore of them. Even Disney’s portrayal of mermaids couldn’t ruin them for me.
I guess they were cool because they were relatively obscure. They were the yarns of sailors and fishermen who would be so crazed from weeks, months, and even years at sea that they began to see things.
Often, they really were seeing things. If you lived in Florida by the Indian River, you’d see mermaid tails every day. I did. But, sorry, no siren of the sea waiting to lure me in. Just a harmless manatee whose tail is believed to be the one sailors swore was that of an ocean bound half-woman, half fish.
And yes, I liked Splash. Who wouldn’t? It wasn’t really Darryl Hannah as a mermaid that did it for me, however. And no, it wasn’t Tom Hanks. I really liked the two moron twins who were helping the researcher guy along the shore. They still crack me up.
You see, the lore of mermaids isn’t the Disney treatment, at least not fully. Mermaids really were sirens of the sea, supposedly able to hypnotize sailors and lead them to their doom. This is certainly the British version of mermaids. They were considered bad omens.
Often, they only looked beautiful to the sailor, but were really hideous creatures. The last Pirates of the Caribbean got that incarnation correct, as did some other lesser known movies.
But the beautiful mermaid thing? Never stuck with me. There’s nothing really that interesting about a gorgeous woman who has a fish’s tail. I don’t know about you, but that’s not exactly dating material. Oh, sure, writers have gotten around that whole fish tail thing, saying that until such and such a time (a new moon, for example), a mermaid can have legs.
This gets around a lot of problems, at least from a storytelling perspective. I don’t know about you, but if I were to bring a fish home from the sea and let it lounge around on my couch for a week, it would really start to smell. You know, that fish smell.
I’m pretty sure a mermaid would start to stink after a while, even if her human half is happy as a clam living in your house. And let’s not even talk about all the scales you’d have to get off the bed every morning. If you want a sneak peek at what it would be like to sleep with a mermaid, head to the Pike Place Market and pick up a 20 pound salmon. Place it under your covers and pretend you’re doing the horizontal mambo with it. Scales everywhere (and no, I do not speak from personal experience, at least not recent experience).
If you do away with that convenient “I get legs for X amount of time” ploy, then you’re left with shagging a fish. Again, I don’t have any experience with this, but I can imagine it would be pretty dicey making it with a mermaid. First, uhm, well, where do you start? I guess I could watch a documentary on dolphin reproduction to get some idea, but I think I might be ill equipped for such an undertaking, at least compared to a dolphin.
I suppose I could just get a can opener, like opening a can of tuna fish. But that hardly puts me in the mood for a little fish love.
Try rolling her over and you’re bound to get a face full of flipper. If a mermaid’s tail is anything like a rockfish, then she’s bound to let some barbs fly in the throes of passion. Hopefully, they aren’t poisonous. Ah, what does it matter, she can just sing to you and you’ll go mad.
That’s why I thought my first ex-whatever was a mermaid. Whenever she sang, I thought I was going to go mad. Turns out something was indeed fishy with our relationship, but it wasn’t her. That, my friends is another tall tale for another time.
So what cured me of my mermaid fascination? It’s become way too popular. Like the pirate world, there used to be only a few people who did the mermaid impression. The best of the best are in Florida. No, not Weeki Wachee, though they have a great show. I’m talking about the mermaids who did the nautical festivals there, bringing their own tank with them. Very cool.
But then everyone had to start muscling in on their gig. Initially, not so bad, as they copied these mermaids, investing in expensive latex tails that look very real, even when the mermaid is swimming.
Then the second wave moved in, ones who couldn’t exactly afford the nicer tails. Instead, they made due with fabric tails which just don’t cut it. They started wearing bikini tops instead of going topless or at least shells… the whole experience just went to hell in a hand basket.
It suffered what I call the “Captain Jack Syndrome.” After the Pirates of the Caribbean movie came out, everyone wanted to be like Johnny Depp. Some could afford the top of the line replica gear and looked like a dead ringer. Others, not even close. Soon, the wannabes who couldn’t afford the time or the effort started to outnumber the ones who did it well, ruining just about every pirate event on the planet.
Of course, the same can be said of the pirate world in general and all the pseudo pirates around, but I digress.
So I’m not into the whole mermaid movement anymore. The one time wonder of these sirens of the sea has been polluted and diluted to the point where it is complete overkill. There are too many mermaids and too much mermaid merchandise for the market.
I look forward to the day when the mermaid craze has passed. It can’t come soon enough for me or my friends at Flying Fish at the Pike Place Market. They’re anxious to have a little sale on tail. I hear mermaids make for some pretty good eating.
In the Emerald City, thinking something smells fishy around here,
– Robb