The Safari of Bacteria: A Story of Teenage Communication and Humanity

By Arina Petrushina

  When the disgust of germs and bacteria that run wild through cruise ship vents turns into a bittersweet feeling as your foot takes its first step back on land, you know something has changed. I, an extreme germaphobe and, quite frankly, often a pessimist, dreaded the thought of spring break, the idea of being stuck on a ship, confined to walls that were probably never sanitized, and the idea of possibly having to meet new people that I would most likely never see again haunted me as the pages of my planner were getting closer and closer to my highlighted dates titled: Spring Break-Cruise. Fast forward to check-in, I walked into my room frantically sanitizing all the surfaces with my Lysol and Clorox wipes. I felt uneasy walking through the ship, realizing I’d be stuck with strangers in the middle of the sea, confined to its long balconies and walkways. I had begun my first day regularly, enjoying the ocean sounds as I curled up in the corner with a book, counting down the days to when I could go back home, but there is never any true quiet when you share a room with an ecstatic and polar opposite six-year-old. My sister burst outside and began to yell, humbling me daily, per the usual: “You are so boring. When I am a teenager, I will have friends.” 

I knew I should never take her words personally, but sometimes, I had to listen to them. “I have friends; I just don’t like cruises.” 

“There are people who have friends here. I saw them outside walking, and I heard them introduce themselves. You are just boring and a (she snickered and attempted to replicate the stereotypical evil cartoon laugh) loser!” She had run around yelling in her pink sunglasses and Minnie Mouse bathing suit. 

This time, I began to take this to heart: what kind of role model am I? I am a 15-year-old big sister who spends her time always reading or hanging out with her same couple of friends. My little sister thinks I’m a loser. As the day continued, with every errand I had to do on the ship for my parents or with every step on the way to get food. The teenage laughter of groups of new friendships haunted me. My sister’s words haunted me. That night, I decided to do something I don’t do often. I decided to venture into the dangerous safari of wild teenage animals roaming the cruise ship. 

I had made my way to the scariest place of all, The Teen Club. As I stood at the big glass door observing the inside, the people, and how the animals stood, I saw lions, hyenas, snakes, owls, and birds. This was a safari that I was not yet ready to trek through. I made my way to the elevator, where I was met with two seemingly lost girls. 

I had subconsciously blurted out of nowhere, “Do you guys have any friends here?” The girls’ faces were a mix of surprise and relief. The younger one, no older than 12, spoke for both of them, ‘No, we didn’t know how to approach people.’ Her older sister laughed, and in that moment, I realized our shared fear. ‘Can we be friends?’ I blurted out, feeling a sense of relief in the shared vulnerability. 

I had turned red and asked a question I hadn’t heard myself say since elementary school. Then, I realized this fear was shared, but there was a joint relief. As the night went on, I learned a lot about Lexie, a sweet 16-year-old girl from Missouri who had played lacrosse, was a photographer, and dreamed of being a sports journalist. She was far from a reflection of me; while I saw times when our stories had intertwined, she was a butterfly; she had taken my hand and helped me fly from flower to flower, meeting people from all over: Canada, Mexico, Miami, California, and the list goes on. Throughout the night, Lexie and I met two more people who stuck with us; we were now a group of four. I was now in one of those wild animal teenage groups and did not recognize myself. I listened carefully as Luke from Chicago and Will from Cincinnati shared their lives. Both juniors, Luke played tennis, and Will had soccer. Luke didn’t know who he wanted to be later in life, so he stressed his bad grades and the great annoyance he felt from his younger brother. Will wanted to do finance; he ran a finance club and worked at a bank. I was reading the beginning pages of a person’s book or the review usually pasted on the back, summarizing the book at an incredible surface level. By night 2, I had spent so much time with these people that our conversations were on page 210 of our books; we were reading each other’s stories. Then we met the final person who would become part of our odd group that ran wild on this safari, Mikail, a Greek Turk from New York City; he loved movies, especially those by Sofia Coppola, and shared a liking of one of my favorite books, Behave. 

On day 3, when I looked at myself in the bathroom mirror after a day full of sun with my family, I found a girl eager to go out of her room and talk to what used to be complete strangers. I couldn’t believe that I’d, for the first time, felt okay with sitting on unsanitized furniture, eating ice cream without thoroughly sanitizing my hands first, or even giving a high five to someone didn’t bother me as much as before. I didn’t recognize myself, but I knew it was important that I didn’t; I knew this was for the better. For the next few days, we saw each other for more than 72 hours; while we didn’t spend the entirety of our days together, we found time to see each other during short lunch breaks and when the night fell. 

On the last night, we had grown so close to each other that it baffled my mind. In under a week, it felt like we had known each other for ages. It was easy to connect when there were no troubles, no ghosts from the past, and no evil six-year-olds who whispered harsh realities in your ear. We had met at the top dock; I was wearing a striped sweater, and the night began as usual; we had joked and laughed and constantly surprised each other with facts about ourselves. But as the hours moved on, no more souls were roaming the dock; it was just the vibrato of our voices jumping off the balcony railings and ocean water many feet below that could be heard. 

We found ourselves discussing politics; I had brought it up; it was something I had constantly thought about, and it excited me to learn how our views would push, mend, and bend when pressed together. We had all shared our very different ideas on topics that some politicians even got nervous about discussing. Yet, with the safe environment we had nurtured over six short days, we were not afraid of disagreeing and were excited to do so. We disagreed, agreed, changed our views, changed our views again, and mixed our opinions; I even found myself searching for bills online, hoping to find some that encompassed our great ideas. There were topics where we had begun to yell, and our voices bounced back from the surfaces even louder, at times it felt too loud, like we were in a big room with many people, but in the end, it was just the five of us, sitting alone on the top dock of a vast floating city in the middle of the ocean. Then, by the end of our political debate or discussion, we all found ourselves agreeing on a seemingly often disagreeable issue. I began to reflect; I could feel something brewing in me, this silly feeling that one can get from watching a cringy movie or finally seeing an awaited moment in the book you’d been reading for days. I found five completely different teens, with different ethnicities, from different places, having different views and different lives, suddenly completely connected, in complete agreement. But I knew it was not just my silly hormonal and developmental mind playing tricks on me; I had observed the expressions on our faces, and we had known that this wasn’t something we would forget. As the night ended and the morning grew near, we could see sun rays beginning to peek through; it was time to say goodbye. We had hugged goodbye, and with aching feet and sunburned skin, we returned to our rooms, drunk of laughter and thoughts. 

I had got into bed to sleep for about two hours, and I could feel my thoughts racing through my brain, interacting with each other; there were discussions between my old and new thoughts, and while they had clashed at first, they had begun to mend. These bacterial-infested walls and germ-filled floors might have developed a warmth to them. Maybe I would miss the gross bench I had to wipe before sitting on; perhaps I would miss standing on the pool dock because of my fear of the germ-infested waters as I watched my friends swim, and maybe I’d miss having to yell to communicate so that I didn’t have to get into the disgusting pool. I had seen this humanity; I had met humanity and experienced it firsthand. I realized that five teens with entirely different lives could work together and experience life together; I had gotten hope for the future. I had gained hope in humanity and my fellow youth, and this safari trek suddenly did not stir as much fear in me as before.

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Biography

My name is Arina Petrushina, and I am a sophomore. In school you’ll find me laughing with my friends or out on a MUN trip. Outside of school, I play lacrosse, hang out with my friends, and read philosophy.

Why did you choose to submit this category(s) of artwork/writing out of the many available category options?

This felt closest to home.

How do you resonate with your piece? Why is it personal to you?

This is a personal experience that gives me hope and drives me forward.