by Libby Boren McMillan

There’s a little-spoken truth about adults who have lived in Florida for a few years. Despite moving here for the sea—whether to fish, sunbathe, or shell—and despite their avid devotion to seafood, sunsets over the Gulf of Mexico, and manatee spotting, they don’t often think of aquariums as places to while away the hours. Maybe it’s the easy access to marine life in its natural habitat that makes visiting a manmade environment that mimics Mother Nature seem less than inspiring.

These were my thoughts exactly when friends urged me to visit the Georgia Aquarium. “Seen one, seen ’em all,” I thought to myself. But they were so emphatic that when I had business in Atlanta, I arranged to stay downtown one night, so I could walk to the attraction that had somehow created a cult following among its visitors, even those who lived seaside. This mystery deserved a little clarity; I’d go see the faux sea.

I checked into the Ellis Hotel, a stylish, modern boutique hotel with killer views, plush beds, tasty breakfasts, a ladies-only floor, and a manager who had come there from LaPlaya Beach & Golf Resort in Naples. She said I could walk to the aquarium in about five minutes.

Without having done adequate homework, I was caught by surprise when my walk took me into the heart of Olympic Park, the site of the 1996 Summer Olympics. As I strolled past impressive sculptures, fountains, and gardens, and past CNN and the larger hotels that bordered the park, I sent a mental salute to the late Richard Jewell, whose life was forever transformed in this park. Happier thoughts soon took over, though, as I neared the giant bottle marking the park’s World of Coke attraction, which faces the Georgia Aquarium.

Lines at the aquarium were short. Surprisingly, most of the visitors were adults, many of them couples. It was a weekday, but this was obviously a hot spot for romantics, or dreamers, or both. I’d soon learn why.

The aquarium is divided into areas that correlate to different types of watery environments. A hot summer’s day makes the Cold Water Quest a perfect place to start. Visitors spy ghostly beluga whales—also called sea canaries for the high-pitched, birdlike sound they emit—swimming in waters that approximate the Arctic waters they naturally inhabit. With their boxy heads and shockingly pale bodies, the belugas will hold your attention for quite a while. They share their frigid environs with an amazing variety of sea life, from giant Pacific squid to sea dragons from Australia and Tasmania. Keep an eye out for the giant Japanese spider crab too.

While the alligators in the River Scout area won’t attract much notice from Southwest Florida visitors, this area’s electric fish are fun to watch. But what really grabs folks’ attention are the frighteningly sharp teeth sported by the piranhas. Kids and adults are both enthralled and repulsed by the close-up glimpse they get of the piranhas’ choppers from the safe viewing area. And if someone you know has had an urge to attempt a marathon swim down a South American river, this should cure that desire, once and for all. River Quest is also where the otters live, and does anyone ever really get tired of watching otters?

My second-favorite area (I’m saving the best for last) was the Tropical Diver section. Arranged like a gallery of exhibits, this oh-so-relaxing area had the most hilarious tank in the house. A bed of sand held pencil-thin, striped, round-topped “plants” pointing up and waving in the underwater current. But it only took a moment to notice that they were disappearing and re-emerging from a tiny hole in the sand, in random patterns. These were no plants but were garden eels, as I soon learned while I stood and watched and laughed. Each eel apparently lives out its life in its own hole, shrinking out of sight when a predator swims overhead and popping up again to see what it missed.

These eels, despite their very immobile lifestyles, have a lot of social interaction. I witnessed two eels fighting with each other, sort of dodging and twisting and head-butting, in between avoiding the fish. I could only surmise, in between laughs, that they were fighting over a nearby “girl,” who was, undoubtedly, never going to leave her hole for either one of the adversaries, no matter how much bravado they exhibited. I have to hand it to them: Acting like a tough guy, without any hands or feet, is not easy, but they were doing it!

Kids love the Georgia Explorer gallery, which features touch tanks full of crabs, sea stars, shrimp, and more. (Adults might see the same creatures and find themselves thinking it’s time for lunch; Café Aquaria solves this dilemma.) This regionalized section of the aquarium also introduces visitors to the inhabitants of Gray’s Reef, a national marine sanctuary right off the coast of the Peach Tree State. And it might surprise many to learn that whales can be found in those waters.

Save the slow-moving sidewalk into the Ocean Voyager gallery for last. It transports suddenly silenced groups of gaping, gawking humans through an acrylic tunnel in which they find themselves surrounded by fish of all sizes. The long, pleasant ride ends at the entrance to the largest fish tank in the world.

Imagine a tank the length of a football field and 126 feet wide, then picture a thirty-foot ceiling above it. It takes more than six million gallons of water to fill such a space, and that’s precisely what the creators of the Ocean Voyager did. Numbers and statistics are utterly worthless, however, when it comes to conveying the beauty and magnitude of an aquarium of this size.

While you sit or stand and watch, whale sharks—the largest fish in the world—swim past. And they have lots of room to swim. Joining these enormous creatures are blacktip reef sharks, giant grouper, hammerhead sharks, manta rays, leopard whiprays, and a host of other fish. Sharp-eyed visitors might spy the spotted wobbegong shark pups, recent additions that created a real splash upon their arrival.

Truth be told, though, you may not care what you’re watching, or even notice that you’re sitting in a room full of other people. You’ll be transfixed by what’s in front of you, a glass wall so big it’s like watching a movie, except that what’s on the other side is very much alive.

I was so taken with this room I spent over an hour there, watching children approach the glass and become black silhouettes with outstretched hands, utterly dwarfed by the curious creatures gliding past them. Only the occasional squeal of delight broke my own watery trance.

And this aquarium cynic has definitely had a change of heart. Now I’m a convert, willing to sing the praises of the Georgia Aquarium to anyone who will listen.

Freelance writer Libby Boren McMillan is a frequent contributor to Times of the Islands, RSW Living, and Bonita Living.