You would have thought we had purchased a couple of highly sophisticated medical devices to self-implant in our brains! Such was the level of detailed instruction we received when my daughter and I bought two souvenirs from a street vendor in Manhattan last weekend.
We purchased two "Magical Growing Creatures." Last I heard, you simply tossed them in a bowl of water and watched them expand overnight.
Somewhat overpriced at a buck apiece, we were nonetheless taken by their sheer enormity on display; it was almost as if the Magical Growing Creatures, which had originated in China, had mistakenly thought they had landed in Texas instead of 74th and Broadway.
A neon lizard looked as if it could burst from its 3-liter confinement, and a sea turtle swiped its limbs pathetically at the edges of its gallon jug. Both bore such forlorn expressions, I believed them to be Pixar cartoon creatures that hoped to be tossed into the Hudson to hitch a ride home on the Gulf Stream.
My daughter had wanted to bring home an unusual sort of gift for her brothers - something you might find only in New York City. Luckily, the sidewalks of New York are jammed with vendors hawking such items: faux designer watches and purses; photographs of famous New York City landmarks; old records and books; and all manner of things most New York City residents wouldn't have if you were giving them away.
Magical Growing Creatures are a prime example. The whole concept of Magical Growing Creatures is counterintuitive to the average Manhattanites' living space. They would more likely be interested in Magical Shrinking items like out-of-season clothes, luggage and holiday decorations; just some of the stuff that takes up valuable real estate in their studio apartments.
But let us not get caught up in what New York City dwellers need - let us go back to the point of purchase on 74th and Broadway, as my daughter and I examined the Magical Growing Creatures.
It seemed so simple. We picked two, and I handed over $2.
"Wait a minute," said a man at the adjacent purse table. We assumed it was so the woman who was helping us could get us a small bag for our purchases. But we were wrong.
The woman came to the front of the display and began pulling back the veil on the Magical Growing Creatures.
"I see you picked the lizard," she said. We nodded. She paused, looking at our little lizard in his sealed cellophane bag. Thoughtfully, she continued. "First, you're going to have to fill a 3-liter bottle, not a 2-liter bottle, do you hear me?"
"Yes," we said respectfully, responding to the aura of seriousness she exuded. I felt as if we had contracted for her first-born child.
"You're only going to fill it two-thirds of the way, that's two-thirds," she said.
"Then, I want you to put him in, and fill it the rest of the way. But be sure - I repeat, be sure - to keep his head facing front!" When she got to the part about keeping the bottle tightly capped, on its side, she was positively strident.
"Don't let them touch it!" she cautioned.
I didn't know who "they" were, but I assured her I wouldn't let "them" anywhere near it.
"We don't know what they put in there that makes him grow," she said.
"It's magical," I interjected, hoping to introduce some levity. She was not amused.
"They're going to want to touch it, but he has to be submerged."
I thought about taking out my reporter's notebook, which I always carry with me in the event of such a critical situation. I suddenly had this concern that I wasn't going to be successful with my Magical Growing Creature.
Luckily, the woman went into even more detail with our second creature, the seahorse. You can see them on my Web site (www.janetgilbertonline.com).
But you cannot touch them, ever.