Vampires in the Lemon Grove

As the title suggests, this story is composed as a list of rules for how to survive “Antarctic tailgating,” which is somewhat similar to football tailgating, save that a person goes to the Antarctic to watch different opposing animal species fight to the death. The spectators choose a side, dress up like that species, and then they cheer on that species.

The presumed narrator is Dougbert Shackleton. He begins by saying:

Perhaps it is odd to have rules for tailgating when the Food Chain Games themselves are a lawless bloodbath. And that is what a lot of fans love about the games: no rules, no refs, no box seats, and no hot pretzels—not below the Ross Ice Shelf! (135).

He says that if you want to tailgate in the Antarctic, you must:

Notarize your will. Transfer what money you’ve got into a trust for your kids. You’ll probably want to put on some weight for the ride down to the ice caves; a beer gut has made the difference between life and death at the blue bottom of the world. Eat a lot of Shoney’s and Big Boy and say your prayers (136).

Then he gives specific rules.

“Rule One: Make friends with your death”

Dougbert says that tailgating “in the Antarctic is no joke. We are trying to do nothing less ambitious than reverse the course of history. We want Team Krill to defeat Team Whale” (136). This is of course silly because Whales eat krill, and krill can never defeat a whale. However, no matter how silly, he says, “if you are a supporter of Team Whale, you can go fuck yourself, my fine sir. This list is for the fans of Team Krill” (136).

“Rule Two: Plan to arrive early”

Dougbert says, “The cousins will joke that I’m a little bit of a stickler for punctuality, but I don’t see the harm in reaching the ice caves early. I’ve seen too many Antarctic tailgaters killed in the Drake Passage over the years” (136). He says it’s best to make small talk with any people you pass and not talk about people who have died along the way.

“Rule Three: Before you leave for the big game, make a tailgating checklist”

Dougbert says a potential tailgater will need to bring a lot of stuff, including “Zodiac boots and gaiters; first-aid kits; survival bags,” radios, and various sensors, as well as nachos (137). He says that tailgaters such as he are “[i]nspired by our brethren in the football stadium parking lots of Florida and Alabama,” in that they drink a lot (137). However, he says even if you’re not a drinker, you can melt chunks of ice water to drink, though the ice will taste fishy.

“Rule Four: Pack a victory cooler”

He says to make sure you have celebratory items for when Team Krill finally beats Team Whale, items like “Arm & Hammer baking soda, Crisco, Nestle Quik (powdered), a sack of sugar, dried corn,” and other various thigs (139). He also warns people that it’s easy to get carried away and get botulism.

“Rule Five: Wear Team Krill colors—but insulate”

He says that even a warm day is below zero, and that one needs to dress warm underneath one’s costume. Team Krill dresses up like a krill to cheer on the krill, and he swears that it helps a little:

I’ve seen the magic of cheering, in costume, for the almost invisible, indefatigable krill. I’ve seen krill accelerate toward the maw of Team Whale, streaming bubbles, a mute shrimp battle cry. It’s a beautiful sight, and beautiful to feel you were part of it (140).

“Rule Five-A”

Rule Five-A states: “If your wife leaves you for a millionaire motel-chain-owning douchebag fan of Team Whale, make sure you get your beloved mock-bioluminescent Team Krill eyestalks out of the trunk of her Civic before she takes off” (141).

“Rule Six: Tip the Russians well”

Dougbert states: “I’m assuming you rented a boat crewed by Russians. They control a lot of the Antarctic tailgating industry, so treat them well” (141). He adds that Team Whale fans, those “cetaceous fucks,” have the money to tailgate in luxury, but that Team Krill tailgates more humbly (141).

“Rule Seven: Tailgating is all about sharing”

Dougbert says that eating whale meat extends from a family recipe:

I don’t bother with salt. I don’t really bother with forks and such, either. I like to pluck the meat from the burning coals and bare my teeth and let out a piercing, unearthly howl at Team Whale tailgaters moored across the ice floes, personally. Just to jazz them a little (142).

“Rule Eight: Be a good sport—but watch your back!”

Dougbert says that the whale supporters are “homicidally devoted to their team. Rich psychopaths” (142). A group of Team Whale people killed a teenaged Team Krill person and stole his socks: “You can lose at tailgating, too, just as devastatingly as Team Krill keeps losing to Team Whale” (142).

“Rule Nine: Should you have to bury your dead, do so in the proper receptacles”

Dougbert offers, “Nobody likes a litterbug. You can’t get much lower class than a boat of tailgaters who just leave their dead around” (143).

“Rule Ten: Don’t fall overboard”

Dougbert states, “The game lasts twenty seconds, tops. You don’t want to come all that way and miss the game” (144).

“Rule Eleven: Don’t stop believin’”

Dougbert says, “Some (like my ex) will tell you that it’s a special sort of masochist who supports Team Krill, since all evidence suggests that they been consistently losing the Food Chain Games for eons” (144). He says that one should keep faith that the krill will win eventually, and that this will be their year.