I was walking from the Financial District to North Beach and I decided to stroll through the heart of Chinatown. Now I know, I know it's going to seem culturally insensitive but it's not that. I'm a curious gal and this was curious. I'm walking along and am fascinated by all the shops. There's a Chinatown in Chicago but it's kind of out of the way so I never frequented it. Also in NYC the only thing I would do in Chinatown was scrounge around Canal street for cheap goods, which is such a fun thing to do. Knockoff Ray Bans for $5 is so amazing I don't know what else to say about it...
All that aside...I'm walking through Chinatown mesmerized by all the awesomeness; just dried goods and crazy herb shops - which all the shops in Chinatown that carry these goods smell like containers of dried fish flake food. This is what I've determined. I also determined because of a childhood incident this is why I won't live in Chinatown as the memory is utterly traumatizing.
When I was a youngster - about 4? We had a "family" fish tank. In which we kept exotic fish such as goldfish, guppies and .05 snails. High class, top of the line stuff. We even had a filter...I think? Any how while away at school for the day my little brother decided to deposit the entire contents of the fish flake food into the tank and the very intelligent goldfish gorged themselves to death and when we returned from the school day they were all found floating. It was sad and and hard lesson learned that goldfish are dumb pets.
OK - this is great and even more traumatizing. I just went to find a picture of a goldfish and came across the most informative site. Apparently my childhood fish were bloated and constipated and resting while they relieved themselves of too much gas and food. Being ignorant fish owners we flushed them so I just now found out we murdered perfectly good goldfish. A whole $.70 worth down the drain. I want to go back 24 years and scream "STOP - they are constipated and when the gas passes everything is going to be fine. They will compose themselves and never gorge again."
Goldfish are apparently not the dumbest pets. In fact I think if I over ate instead of hitting the gym to remedy the situation it would be desirable to play dead for three days while my bloating and guilt over stuffing myself silly subsided.
My whole point was while living on Sheridan, my old Chicago street I was never so fortunate to see bloated piggies being unloaded into underground holding cells (I'm not sure where they were putting the pigs or what exactly they were going to do with them). I was privy to bar fights at all hours and a great cast of homeless people but you can get that anywhere so that's why I took the picture.
End of story, or that story.
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