Some phrases in this world send chills down your spine. Cash bar. Instagram Influencer. Catheter insertion. Featuring Lena Dunham. I came across another one of such spooky phrases this week when I read an article about a “big pile of eels” being dumped next to a creek by a lunatic in Brooklyn.
Now, I am no wiz on the conversion chart or the metric system, but what kind of unit of measurement is “big pile?” That’s no way to measure anything. “Hey, I made a big pile of cupcakes for the party!” No, the phrase “big pile” just insinuates chaos, and when the feature of that big pile is the chosen weapon of Ursula, oh shit do we have something cooking.
According to the Associated Press, Andrew Orkin was jogging by Prospect Park Lake when he noticed a large entanglement of what appeared to be snakes. They turned out to be swamp eels from Southeastern Asia, brought to the lake in two large bags by apparently a super villain. According to bystanders, the guy dumped one bag of eels in the lake after the other bag broke and let out the eels. He then allegedly said, “I just want to save lives.”
I don’t know much about this mystery guy, but that sentence will haunt me for some time. What lives? The eels? People of New York? Other wildlife? If it’s the eels, what sort of environment did this dude find them in? Were these eels in a toxic relationship addicted to drugs and alcohol standing on the edge of a skyscraper like Jenny from Forrest Gump, and he just said, “oh no, baby, I gots you?” If it’s the citizens from New York, what the hell is in that lake that these eels are going to kill? I just have so many questions that will seemingly never be answered.
Apparently, it is not a new thing for exotic animals to find themselves in New York City. There are reports of snakehead fish, European starlings, and red-eared slider turtles all screwing stuff up. Let’s not forget all the tales of alligators finding their ways into the sewers.
I think as I am typing this, I am starting to turn the other way on this one. For decades, New Yorkers have flooded the beaches of Florida with their loud voices, abrasive personalities, European sunglasses, and thick stenches of entitlement. Then, they get to the Sunshine State and complain about the heat and the insects and the lack of thin, greasy pizza. Well guess what, New Yorkers, if you wanted to get more Florida in your life, here it is. Because nothing says Florida quite like a bunch of crazy-ass animals that can bite you on land or water, making nowhere safe other than the end of the bar at a Flanigan’s.
I guess there’s no reason to go down South anymore. I hope you enjoyed your time as New York, because guess what, now you’re well on your way to becoming New Florida.