Dave Barry - Dave Barry Is Not Making This Up

Meanwhile, next to me, Paddy, a middle-aged attorney who is not, let’s be honest, built like an Olympic gymnast, who is in fact built a lot like a gym, was saying, in an unusually high voice, “We better bring the boom back now. OK? Now? OK?? WE BETTER BRING THE BOOM BACK NOW! BRING-THE-BOOM-BACK-NOW!! I SAID ...”

“HANG ON!” Captain Dan was shouting. “She’s about to move!”

People on shore were now taking pictures.

“IT’S AN UNUSUALLY LOW TIDE!” a helpful boater was shouting.

“Please,” Paddy was saying, very quietly now.

“I think she’s moving!” Captain Dan sang out.

In fact, the Jersey Girl was exhibiting no more flotation than central Nebraska. As I clung to the boom, listening to Paddy whimper, two thoughts penetrated my pain: (1) He was paying for this experience; and (2) If you have to die, you want it to be for a noble cause. You don’t want it to be for Big Dick and the Extenders.

It turned out we didn’t die. We finally got swung back onto the boat and began thinking about leading our lives without moving any muscles ever again. And eventually Captain Dan got the boat unstuck. He needed the help of a motorboat. I am certain this was also true of Columbus.

I had hoped that we could get the new year under way without any reports of ecologically dangerous shellfish attacking women’s undergarments, but I see now that I was a fool.

I have here an alarming news article written by Christopher Taylor of the Watertown (New York) Dally Times and sent in by several alert readers. The headline, which I am not making up, says: LARGE COLONY OF ZEBRA MUSSELS FOUND CLINGING TO BIG BRASSIERE.

In case you haven’t heard, the zebra mussel is a hot new environmental threat. Forget the killer bees. Oh, sure, they got a lot of scary headlines—KILLER BEES SIGHTED IN MEXICO; KILLER BEES SIGHTED IN TEXAS; KILLER BEES BECOME AMWAY DISTRIBUTORs—but they never lived up to their potential. Whereas at this very moment, the zebra mussel is raging out of control in the Great Lakes region. Well, OK, maybe “raging” is a strong term. As a rule, mussels don’t rage. You rarely hear swimmers being advised: “If you see a mussel, try to remain calm, and whatever you do, don’t provoke it.”

Nevertheless, we have reason to fear the zebra mussel, which gets its name from the fact that it roams the plains of Africa in giant herds.

No, seriously, it gets its name from the fact that it has a striped shell, which grows to about an inch long. About five years ago a group of zebra mussels, possibly carrying forged passports, came from Europe to the Great Lakes in the bilge water of a European ship, and they’ve been reproducing like crazy ever since. They are the Sex Maniacs of the Sea. Here’s a quote from an August 1991 Washin ton Post article:

“Each female can produce 30,000 eggs a year, leading to huge colonies of billions of the animals clinging to every available surface. Recently, marine biologists have discovered concentrations reaching 700,000 mussels a cubic yard. ...”

So apparently spaying them on an individual basis is out of the question. But something has to be done, because zebra mussels are clogging up water-supply pipes, and they’re spreading fast. Controlling them could cost billions of dollars—money that will have to come out of the pockets of the scumballs who wrecked the savings-and-loan industry.

No! That was another joke! The money will of course come from low-life taxpayers such as yourself, which is why you need to stay informed about this story, especially the giant-brassiere angle. Here are the key quotes from the Watertown Daily Times story:

A large brassiere pulled from waters near the Genesee River at Rochester was carrying the largest colony of zebra mussels found so far in Lake Ontario. ...

The brassiere—and the mussels—are now under observation at the Department of Environmental Conservation Fisheries Research Station at Cape Vincent.

DEC Supervisory Aquatic Biologist Gerard C. LeTendre said the bra was scooped up while DEC staff were trawling for dead lake trout near the Genesee River ... Because of the size of the garment, Mr. LeTendre said, more than 100 mussels had managed to attach themselves to it.

“Whoever that bra belonged to was of large proportions,” Mr. LeTendre said. “It was huge.”

This episode raises a number of troubling questions, including:

* They were trawling for dead trout?

* Is that sporting?

* Could it possibly be that the zebra mussels have become carniverous and ate the original bra occupant?

* Has anybody seen Dolly Parton in person recently?

In an effort to get to the bottom of this, I called the research station and grilled Gerard LeTendre.

“Is it true,” I said, “that you have a large brassiere under observation?”

“It’s really just in a box in my office,” he said. “The newspaper made it sound like we have it in an aquarium.”

He also said they still don’t know who owns the bra.

“We know it’s a four-hook bra,” he said. “But it didn’t belong to a large person. It was just a very well-endowed person.

He said that many people have offered suggestions about what to do with the bra, including “holding a Cinderella-type contest to see who it fits.”

For now, however, the mystery remains unsolved. Meanwhile, the zebra mussels continue to multiply. Even as you read these words, a huge colony of them could be clustering ominously around a Sears catalog that fell overboard, nudging it open to the foundation-garments section. It is a chilling thought, and until the authorities come up with a plan of action, I am urging everybody to take the sensible precaution of developing a nervous facial tic. Also, if you must wear a brassiere, please wear it on the outside, where the Department of Environmental Conservation can keep an eye on it. Thank you.

This section contains several true-life adventures, including the incident wherein Calvin Trillin and I came within inches of being savagely attacked by a dangerous and heavily armed criminal. Or possibly not. (I should note for the record that Trillin claims he acted much more heroically than the way he is depicted in this column; my feeling about that is, if he wants to appear heroic, he should write his own column about it.)

This section also contains the column I wrote about my first encounter with the world-famous Lawn Rangers precision lawnmower drill team of Arcola, Illinois. Since then I’ve returned to Arcola twice to march with this proud unit in the annual Broom Corn parade, a wonderful small-town, heartland event that features a tremendous outpouring of what can only be described as “beer.”

Somebody has got to do something about crime in the streets. Every day it seems as though there are more criminals running loose out there, and the quality of their work is pathetic.

I base this statement on a crime experience I had recently in the streets of New York City while visiting Calvin Trillin, who lives in New York and divides his time pretty much equally between being a well-known writer and trying to park his car. This experience, which I am not making up, occurred as we were returning to Calvin’s house at about 1 A.M. after an evening of business-related nonpersonal tax-deductible literary research. Just as we reached his door, a criminal appeared from out of the darkness and attempted to rob us. Up to that point, I have no criticism of the criminal’s technique. He had done an excellent job of victim selection: In terms of physical courage, Calvin and I were probably the two biggest weenies abroad in Manhattan at that hour. A competent criminal, armed with any plausible weapon, including a set of nail clippers, could have had us immediately begging for mercy and handing over our wallets and promising to raise additional cash first thin in the morning by applying for second mortgages.