Bear v. Shark (17 page)

Most people will answer “bear” or “shark” very quickly and then proceed to provide reasons. You’ve heard most of these reasons by now. The fins, the teeth, the mammalian brain, the hibernation factor, energy fields, color blindness, eyeball rays, the shark tongue.

Etc.

There are very few fence-sitters, and there is very little apathy. And it’s rare that someone takes time to consider the question and weigh the evidence. Seldom do people change their minds, though it’s been known to happen. It seems to be a gut thing. The answer just feels right and then you come up with reasons.

But there are some people, and you know the type, who refuse to answer until they have, say it with me now,
more information
. They say things like, Well what kind of shark are we talking about and what kind of bear? They say, Hammerhead v. Grizzly is a whole different ball game from Great White v. Polar or Sand v. Brown or Tiger v. Koala. And they say, And how deep is the water,
exactly
, and is it fresh water or salt water? And worst of all: Why would they ever fight? They have different ecological niches and they dont share the same food supply. A bears digestive system blah blah blah.

God I hate these people.

Matthew hates these people, too.

If you run into someone like this, just make your way quickly to a different part of the parlor. These are the people you have to look out for. These are the people who — well, it’s like they’re terrified that someone somewhere might be having fun.

XIX hours until Bear v. Shark II.

The lobby of the Normans’ hotel looks even better in person than on the Internet. Except there are no exotically hued fish in the huge aquarium behind the front desk.

Mrs. Norman says to the front desk person, “Where are the colorful fish?”

The front desk person says, “They died.”

Mrs. Norman says, “Oh.”

The front desk person, who is wearing a sexy toga, says, “It happens.”

Mrs. Norman says, “Part of the life cycle.”

The front desk person says, “It happens every few months. These fish can’t seem to survive in our tank for very long. So they die off and so we just order new ones. People want to see the colorful ones.”

Mrs. Norman says, “Sure.”

The front desk person gives Mrs. Norman the keys and gives Curtis a T-shirt.

Curtis says, “Thanks.”

Mrs. Norman says, “It could be ich or dropsy.”

The T-shirt says, “I won the Bear v. Shark essay contest and you didn’t.”

Mr. Norman sits in the crowded lobby. There are crumbling columns and wax gladiators. Chariots race and slaves battle to the death for a fruit-eating emperor in a gigantic ceiling mural.

Everyone
looks familiar. Did he see them in TeleTown? At a Food Mart in America? In the small Television lounge of the Plugged Inn? Are they stars of Comedies, either romantic or situation? Are they the vixens and cads of Prime Time that we love to hate? Is that his family over there at the front desk?

There are supposed to be many stars in Vegas this weekend.

Banners say, “Welcome Bear Fans & Shark Fans.

Some guy whose T-shirt says, “Lindbergh is a lie,” says, “Glad to see you here.”

Some other guy says, “I’ll meet you later.”

In the corner of the lobby, two grown adults gallop violently on Plexiglas horses in a horse-racing video game. The loser says, “I got gypped.”

A crying person says, “I just can’t believe I’m actually here. I cannot believe it. I cannot believe it.”

A Television Reporter for an American station stares into a camera and says, “Here in the lobby of the Roman Coliseum, there is a festive, jubilant atmosphere.”

A Television in the corner says the same thing at the same time.

The losing guy on the Plexiglas horse leans back, out of breath. He says, “That fucking sucks.”

Mr. Norman asks a pretty woman for her autograph.

The pretty woman smiles and says, “I don’t think I’m who you think I am.”

Mr. Norman says, “Who are you?”

The pretty woman says, “I’m just a pretty woman.”

Mr. Norman says, “That’s who I thought you were.”

The pretty woman autographs a Food Mart receipt up against an Automatic Teller Machine (ATM) shaped like a slave-eating lion.

Someone says, “I’m telling you, the shark looked puffy and pale.”

Mrs. Norman and the boys make their way through the crowd to Mr. Norman and the pretty woman. Mrs. Norman says to the pretty woman, “You look familiar.”

The front desk person says, “The new fish are on order, sir. There’s nothing we can do about it.”

The horse-racing loser pushes the horse-racing winner off his Plexiglas horse. The winner falls and his elbow bends the wrong way.

A banner says, “Las Vegas: America’s younger, good-lookin’ sister.”

A woman in an office says:

The official logo for Bear v. Shark I, we felt, was all wrong. The shark was cartoony. You can see here — the big, toothy smile and the waving fin. I’m just not thinking
ravined
here. This image gives no sense of the sharks ability to make the sea boil with blood. And the bear? Well, take a look. Way too Soviet. A stern profile that expresses the animals strength adequately but really fails to capture the bears natural charisma or its fun-loving disposition. Bears are in circuses, after all. They dance and ride tiny bicycles.

The challenge, really, was to convey the split personalities of these beasts, and that’s what our firm tried to do for the Bear v. Shark II official logo. What we have here are two animals who are both a great deal of fun, and yet also are killing machines who rip meaty limbs from torsos. You want to scare kids, but you don’t want to scare them
too
much, you know what I mean? It’s got to say Nature
and
Vegas. Moreover, you want to make it appear evenly matched. You dont want to make it seem like you are rooting for one over the other. This isnt so easy.

I don’t mind telling you that I’m really tickled at the way it came out. I think our artists did a fantastic job. And the color scheme — the charcoal gray with the cadmium yellow — strikes me as a perfect way to represent these complicated and beautiful creatures.

A smooth, bright elevator, then a fluorescent corridor.

The Normans walk through a long hallway on the twenty-first floor of the Roman Coliseum.

Televised people on boxes within boxes laugh or cry convincingly, and the muffled sounds are a comfort to the road-weary family. Outside of almost every door they hear a voice they recognize. Walking the hallway is like turning the dial of a radio — God, do you remember radio dials? — or like channel surfing in three-dimensional space. Ball game? Take about ten steps back. A very funny and occasionally touching syndicated Situation Comedy about a group of cool friends who hang out together in a thick stew of sexual tension? All the way to the end of the hall. The advertisements — the jingles, the catchwords, the 25% mores and 50% lesses — seep out into the hallway and infiltrate desire.

Ever seen ants on something dying or dead?

Is a dead mouse really still a mouse?

It’s been a long day and it’s late. Mrs. Norman’s posture frankly just isn’t what it was when she started this trip.

Matthew says to Curtis, “By the way, what happened to you back there in America?”

Curtis says, “I got up briefly with this cult.”

Matthew says, “What was the cult’s belief system?”

The hallway carpet says, “All roads lead to Fun!”

Curtis says, “Essentially, they believe that the bear and the shark are like the Trinity. It’s a complicated ideational grid.”

Matthew says, “Sounds stupid.”

Mrs. Norman says, “Matthew, beliefs cannot be right or wrong. We need to tolerate and respect all systems of thought, no matter how stupid or bankrupt they are.”

Curtis says, “I didn’t quite catch all the nuances, but it turns out they want to blow up the Dome.”

Matthew says, “Well get in line.”

The hotel room doors say, “MMCXII . . . MMCXIV . . . MMCXVI . . . MMCXVIII.”

Trays of half-eaten meals lie on the floor outside the doors.

A Televised Person says, “I’m feelin’ like a bitch in heat!”

The audiences laugh: (1) The live studio audience before which the show was taped; (2) the lonely person locked inside the hotel room; (3) the children walking through the hall.

Curtis says, “That’s the one where Alex thinks he’s in bed with Lola, but it’s really David’s mother.”

Matthew says, “That one’s OK.”

The signs on all the doors say, “Do Not Disturb.”

Mr. Norman knows that you can be so damn tired and still not be able to fall asleep.

The hotel hallway stretches on and on.

Just
try
to keep a real pretty fish healthy. There aint no doin it.

Not hardy creatures.

Turn sideways like
that
.

Brilliant scales get all fuzzy and rotted.

Among the thousand natural shocks are Ammonia Poisoning, Black Spot, Corneybacteria.

Dropsy, Fungal Infection.

Velvet, Ich.

Parasitic Infestation.

The symptoms of your Ammonia Poisoning include red or bleeding gills.

Fish tend to get darker in color and they gasp for air at the surface.

Their very home is a poisonous cage.

Can be prevented but not cured.

Avoid adding expensive fish to new tanks.

Just makes sense, don’t it?

Start with cheap fish.

Canaries in the coal mine.

Splurge and get yourself an ammonia detoxifier.

I think the symptoms of Black Spot go pretty much without saying.

Tends to strike your Silver Dollars and your Pariahs.

Corneybacteria leads to a swollen head that will inevitably push the eyes outward.

Pop ’em right out in some rare and severe cases.

With Dropsy you can expect bulging sides and stomach.

Dropsy is not technically a disease. It’s a symptom, a common one.

With your Fungal Infections keep on the lookout for a cottonlike substance on the fins and mouth.

There are many fine commercially available products to cure Velvet, a very common disease that has something to do with pustules.

You want to handle Ich?

What can I say? Watch for white pimply fins.

Treatment of Ich can be difficult.

With your Parasitic Infestation, you got to lay hands on the colorful host in question. You got to physically remove the visible worms, flukes, or lice.

Follow with commercially available treatment such as AquaTech’s Fluke-B-Gone or Parasite Armageddon by Trident Laboratories.

All this information is on the Net.

Or write for a transcript.

The question is absurd, as are most profound questions:

Given a relatively level playing field — i.e., so that the water doesn’t run off — enough water so . . . Wait, shit, how’s it go?

Something about dexterity.

OK. Given a level body of water — not so much water that the bear has to breathe underwater but not such a little bit that the shark would just be flailing around like a beached whale.

With dexterity.

Yes, with dexterity. Given this and with the water perfect and everything, who would win if a shark and a bear got into a fight.

A bear and a shark.

Right, a bear and a shark, who would win in a fight if they got in one.

The question is apparently of Ancient Eastern extraction.

Yes right a cone but except also I heard it might not be that.

The hotel room is, well, nice. All expenses paid, too. And it’s like the essay wasn’t really all that well written. Not bad, but not fantastic. Besides that, the part about the Dutch gardener was just simply fabricated. The Normans don’t have a gardener, Dutch or otherwise. I can verify that.

So it’s a lie. Bold-faced or bald-faced is it? Little white?

Transgression or poetic license?

Should the Normans give their tickets back?

That was a joke.

The view from the window, particularly if you enjoy neon, is extraordinary.

The Darwin Dome stutter-glows in the distance.

The shower cap in the bathroom says, “One size fits most.”

Neon is a gaseous element occurring in small amounts in the earth’s atmosphere. It’s
all natural
is what I’m saying.

Someone, probably a parent, says, “Tomorrow is a big day.” This means it’s time for bed, even though there are plenty of good Television programs on. The Televisions can stay on, it’s not like they turn off, but let’s turn the volume down a bit and let’s try to sleep, OK? The Televisions are here for you, sweethearts, they’re not going anywhere. They’ll be here when you wake up, brush your teeth, that’s it, you want to be well rested tomorrow night when the land meets the sea.

Mr. Norman.

He watches some Vegas Television, it’s anthropological work. What does this culture value? What is taboo here? What kind of people are considered important or worthy? Who has power? What is considered funny?

Hell, it looks about the same as American-style programming. Maybe a little racier. We live in a melting pot. Cultural distinctions fade away, especially where there are no geographical boundaries.

When Las Vegans refer to their homeland as the “Island of Good Times,” they are of course speaking metaphorically.

To the extent that cultural differences linger, we must respect and tolerate them.

She (the Vibra-Dream Plus) says, “You just might be Father of the Year.”

Neon (Ne) comes from the Greek, meaning “new” or “recent.”

Neon — with helium, argon, krypton, xenon, and radon — is a noble gas.

New and noble, what’s not to like?

Mr. Norman cannot sleep. His eyelids flutter open when he tries to close them. In his head the words dart and collide like heated-up electrons. Protons or whatever.

He says, “If your neck isn’t beautiful, then why even bother?”

He says, “When life throws you a curve, make lemonade.”

Mrs. Norman is indeed lovely when she sleeps.

Mr. Norman gets out of bed and gets dressed. Neon’s atomic number is 10 and its atomic weight is 20.183.

She (the pillow) says, “Where are you going? No, don’t leave. Please don’t. Nothing good can come of this.”

Another name for the noble gases is inert gases. Inactive or sluggish by nature. Unable to combine with anything else.

Who knows, maybe if Mr. Norman had tried a little harder, he could have fallen asleep. There’s always
what if
.

Mr. Norman quietly leaves the hotel room and here’s the thing: His youngest boy, Curtis, sees him leave and follows him. A little father-son outing.