SCENE: The Day I Became a Whale (Officially)
Somewhere between dog walks and pool cleaning, Golfito decides to break a world record.
The plan: assemble the largest human-made whale shape ever attempted. People gather. Instructions are shouted. Chaos reigns gently. Everyone lies down in position, arms out, feet aligned, trusting someone somewhere to know what a whale looks like from above.
I take my place.
There’s something poetic about it this town, this bay, the whales that come here to give birth before heading back out to sea. And here we are, humans trying our best to honour them by turning ourselves into one.
We succeed. Photos are taken. Documentation sent. And just like that, I am officially part of the Guinness Book of World Records.
Immortalized.
Not for work. Not for productivity. Not for output or optimization.
For standing on the ground with strangers and becoming a whale.
If this were a movie, this would be the montage moment — the one where the audience laughs, then quietly realizes the symbolism. I didn’t come here to make history. But history found me anyway, in the most unexpected, low-effort, joyful way possible.
I don’t know how often people get to say this, but I can now say it with confidence: I am on record as having been part of something bigger than myself.
And honestly?
That feels about right.