When I was in third grade, my parents took me on an epic road trip to Orlando. Besides driving through a blizzard and discovering my lifelong love of Pluto, we also went to SeaWorld. I love it there. I got to see the sea lions and the whales. Since my sister and I were some of the few kids there that snowy winter, we got to play the water gun race arcade game. And since there was always a winner and only the two of us playing, we got the best stuffed dolphin and whale. They were huge, and I loved them!
But the best part was getting to feed the dolphins. I loved them. They were all slimy and happy. Naturally, my father wanted to get pictures of us feeding the dolphins. After a few unsuccessful attempts, where the dolphins ate the fish before my father could properly focus the camera, my father insisted we hold the fish as high as we could so the dolphins would have to reach for the fish. Nevermind the sign right behind us that said not to tease the dolphins or hold the fish out of their reach. My father wanted a perfect dolphin picture, and by George he was going to get one. Three rolls of film later, and yes if was film, and yes he did go through three whole rolls later, my mother said enough was enough, and we moved on to feeding the stingrays, which my father was not nearly as interested in photographing.
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