Anyway, Mérida was beautiful until they stopped selling booze and we got food poisoning the night the hurricane hit so anyway, anyway, anyway. We spent the trip in fear of Dean and then in fear of shitting our pants. And then we flew back over very, very frightening turbulence and I am a very, very bad flyer to begin with.
So we're lying in bed after this fail-vacation and Max says kind of out of the blue, "I'm worried about Alligators." Now, he wasn't trying to be cute--I don't think. And we live in Brooklyn so it couldn't have been a literal fear. But there was something I liked about it anyway. It was like a poem. It gave me a very clear picture of the feeling he was trying to describe, even though it was just a sort of nonsense thing to say.
I like that the Alligators sort of invokes this unreasonable, childish dread--an alligator is an old, scary lizard with no limbic brain. And I guess being just-graduated from DRAMA SCHOOL and trying to be an ACTOR or SOMETHING I am feeling a lot of dread. A lot of fear of Alligators. And I thought maybe there are a few other people who feel the same way.