Sleeping with the Fishes

          This morning the Sharona-quest began in earnest.

            We looked online at the two girls’ profiles. One was still missing a picture, but in her profile she mentioned that she was a tour guide. We reckoned she’d therefore be easy enough to find. The other one, a hot blonde, has a fairly detailed diary. We carefully read through the last few weeks’ entries for clues. We discovered that she spends a huge amount of time at a few select locations: the mall, some café in town, the mall, a Bourbon Street club and… the mall. Her diary for today mentioned a rendezvous with the girls. We therefore decided to head for her favourite spot, The Shops at Canal Place.

            An hour later we were wandering about in the said mall, realising that this was in many ways a rather stupid way to go about things. It’s not exactly a movie, we’re not just going to bump into her… We went to a few shop clerks and showed them pictures we’d printed out. Eventually one of them actually did recognise her, and confirmed she’d been there in the last half hour. Ed got very excited at this point, believing himself a true Philip Marlowe.

            Despite this minor success we didn’t know where next to head, so we decided to sit in an open café in the mall and have lunch. We discussed what on earth I’d actually say if we did find her.

            “Go with your heart,” Ed told me.

            After lunch we decided we had to move on, perhaps try again another day with better clues. Ed noticed that we were next to the Aquarium and we went to check it out. Being on the estuary front it had been badly struck by Katrina. It lost 10,000 fish! It is recovering pretty well now though, and is open for business.

            We wandered about looking at various turtles and sharks until we came to a rather spectacular underwater tunnel. As I was gaping at the underside of a stingray Ed suddenly cracked me in the ribs with his elbow.

            “What the hell?” I asked. Ed pointed along the corridor. I looked and saw Sharona!

            “Wow,” I said, “that’s lucky.”

            “It’s fate,” Ed replied. “Now exercise your free will.”

            We sidled up to her and looked into the same part of the tank as her.

            “Hi!” I said, with forced brightness. Suddenly a giant of a man took a step closer to her and looked at me angrily. He must’ve been a college football player or something.

            “Er… Hi,” she replied.

            “Pretty aren’t they, Sharona?” I said, using her name to see what would happen.

            “You know this guy Shar?” said the bloke.

            “No!” she replied, with earnest honesty.

            “How’d you know her name then buddy?” he said to me, squaring up.

            “Her MySpace site, I recognise her.”

             “MySpace? Shar?”

            “Like, I dunno!” she replied. “What’s My…Space?” she added, fake-moronically.

            “Okay buddy,” the guy started again, facing me, “I don’t know what your game is but you’ll be sleeping with the fishes if you don’t fuck off.” A few kids looked over but he was just laughing at his terribly funny bon mot.

            “Alright mate,” I said, then turned to Sharona. “Sharona, fate brought me all the way here from London to see you. If that means anything then take your space and let me know.”

            The bloke didn’t take kindly to this continued communication. He grabbed me by the t-shirt. “I’m gonna knock you dead for that,” he said.

            “No, you won’t,” said Ed, suddenly appearing at my side. “Put my friend down, right now.”

            The two of them stared hard at one another, neither blinking. Eventually the bloke let go of me and we left quietly.

 

*

 

            Back at the hostel I found myself a little shaken by the confrontation. I couldn’t help but admire Ed’s bravery but I wondered if all this was so sensible.

            “What did you expect?” asked Ed, noting my mood. “This sort of thing is bound to happen occasionally when social conventions are pushed.”

            “Hmmmm,” I replied, and sat musing for a while. “I wonder if she’ll get back to me on MySpace.”

            “I don’t think so mate, she’s plainly an air head, and that hint of yours was way too subtle.”

            I think perhaps I’ll try and have a quiet one tonight.