Even the crustaceans were glistening from sweat that typically muggy summer afternoon in New Orleans. Reclining on the quad at Tulane University, innocently enjoying a snow cone, I was a disinterested bystander at the order of the day—crawfish racing. In Sin City, this event musters a level of excitement second only to Mardi Gras. The air was filled with the excited shouting of kids cheering on their crustaceans, who were clicking eerily as they struggled on the plastic sheets unfurled across the lawn.
I should have expected what happened next. By that time, my junior year of high school, I had had a wealth of unfortunate encounters with sea creatures that were public knowledge. Every secret gift exchange at school, I would receive fish—dead or alive. Pet store fish are vaguely annoying, as some inner goodwill obliges me to care for them, but not scary. In biology, probing and sketching the formaldehyde-soaked crawfish was a far more horrifying experience than dissecting the fetal pig. Crustaceans enjoy a special place in my conception of Hell.
That July afternoon, I turned my head for an instant only to find Phil, an over-stimulated high school sophomore, dangling a wriggling crayfish only five inches from my face. Maybe it was the humidity, or perhaps I’m just prone to bouts of melodrama, but I was livid. After some screaming and several guilt snow cones (the best kind), I had calmed down enough not to lash out violently against him.
If I had only known I could have taken that insolent boy to court for emotional damages. In an Ontario courtroom in March 2002, Charles Mills, a middle-aged Toronto realtor received 12 months probation after assaulting a grocery store clerk with a weapon. The weapon in question? A lobster, the crayfish’s northern, equally insidious kin. Leigh Daboll, the defense lawyer who represented Mills, told me on the phone, “There are many things that wouldn’t normally be considered weapons until you assault someone with them-like paper or spit.”
On Sept. 21, 2001, Mills entered Zehr’s Market with the intention of purchasing 10 lobsters and left in handcuffs. Mills informed the seafood clerk of his excessive need for lobster and became irate when she would not allow him to put them on the scale himself. He responded to this denial by throwing one of the lobsters in question at the clerk. Despite escaping the assault with only two small cuts where the lobster ricocheted off her hand, the clerk insisted on pressing charges. Daboll assured the judge that this was an “isolated incident.” Doubtful. Daboll told me, “[Mills] was having a bad day.”
My own encounter with a lobster was slightly less jarring than the seafood clerk’s. I was seven, and my father had just returned from a business trip to Boston. He brought onto the plane a white Styrofoam cooler containing menacing cargo—a very lively Cape lobster, a biological weapon in its own right. He opened the crate when he got home, lobster still hissing, and I was thoroughly disgusted.
Given newly implemented security measures such as random cavity searches and mandatory fingerprinting of all foreigners, I assumed that the Transportation Safety Authority would now have detailed regulations regarding lobsters and flying. According to their website, “prohibited items are weapons, explosives, incendiaries, and include items that are seemingly harmless but may be used as weapons—the so-called ‘dual-use’ items.” A lobster seems to be the definitive dual use item. The website, however, contained no specific references to lobsters or their kin. I decided to call the transportation to get a specific answer to my question, but gave up after holding for 15 minutes.
I was left with nothing to do but turn to the public sector for answers. Beginning at the top of the alphabet, I telephoned an American Airlines representative to inquire about their lobster policies. I claimed to be a tourist taking a leisurely trip to Boston, wishing to bring a crustaceal token of affection home to my loved ones. The helpful representative who answered the phone claimed “If it’s a live lobster, I don’t think you could check it at all. You would have to bring it as a carry-on, but the container could not exceed 45 inches in size.” I assured her that my device for transporting lobsters (an ice chest) would fit within these limits.
I decided to call Continental Airlines for a second opinion. After posing my question, I was put on hold while she “contacted the appropriate department.” Nine minutes later, she returned with bad news. “That wouldn’t be acceptable, we don’t accept a live animal like that on the plane. The only live animals we accept are cats, dogs, birds or rabbits, and they have to be in appropriate carrying cages.” Puzzled by Continental’s method of classification, I asked her if this rule existed because lobsters posed some kind of security risk. She assured me, “[Lobsters] aren’t a security risk, it’s just that Continental doesn’t accept them.”
Given my fear of all aquatic creatures, I found Continental’s stance on the issue to be quite refreshing. I know now I don’t have to fear lobster terrorism while aboard my new airline of choice. When asked about lobsters’ place in the new air security standards, Daboll said, “As a result of the precedent set by this case, I would advise my clients to fully disclose the existence of any live lobsters on their person to airport security, though I’m not sure that could be extended to any crabs they might be carrying.”
Sonia Smith is a sophomore in the School of Foreign Service and managing editor of The Georgetown Voice. She doesn’t come from a scarf culture. Shto?
