Fish Tank Physics
When Vertigo Meets Wonder
Newport Aquarium smelled faintly of salt and clean water, that quiet mix that always makes me feel like I have stepped sideways out of time. Mo moved ahead of me, already curious, already smiling, the glow from the tanks reflecting off her face. Schools of silver fish slid past the glass like living punctuation marks, and the bigger ones hovered with the patience of old librarians.
The rooms were many and the glass tanks curved gently, tank after tank bending the world just enough to feel unreal. That was where it started for me again. The glass warped the horizon, the floor tipped when I turned my head, and my balance decided it wanted a break. I recognized the feeling right away. Seattle had taught me this lesson before. VERTIGO!
These days, the world seems to spin without any help from curved glass. News cycles twist faster than carnival rides. You Tube media algorithms bend reality into impossible shapes. Everything feels like it’s designed to knock you off balance, make you dizzy, force you to grab onto something solid just to stay upright. The constant motion exhausts me. I keep looking for the bench.
But Mo did not slow down. She sped up. The phone came out and she began snapping shots, one moment a rockfish, the next a cloud of anchovies, then something orange and prehistoric staring back like it knew us personally. I found a bench, sat down, and let the motion settle. From there, I watched Mo orbit the tanks like a happy moon. I watched fish that had never heard of vertigo glide effortlessly through curved worlds.
The fish don’t fight the current or complain about the glass. They just swim. I think maybe the best response to a spinning world is to find a bench and just watch others move through it with joy.