COLUMN: Eating lunch with a vicious monkey
There have been a couple times in my life when I have been sorely disillusioned. I was grossly misled when someone told me that if you jumped into the lava in the first Mario Brothers while pushing up-down-up-back-A-A-B-A, it would take you to a magical coin city. I was also deceived into thinking that to be a True Aggie you need to “diss” a girl on the A. (I have since received several slaps in the face for that misunderstanding.) But probably the most disillusioned I have ever been is when I saw a real, live monkey in the wild.
I doubt that I am the only one among us who has had this dream of seeing a monkey in any place other than Willow Zoo. I mean, who among us, except for those who are mortally afraid of the ebola virus, has never secretly desired to have their very own, pet monkey? Then why, you might ask, was I disillusioned when I finally saw monkeys in the wild? Allow me to explain.
As I was “studying” during one of my weekend trips down here in Costa Rica, my brother, Isaac, and I found ourselves on a picturesque, Caribbean beach. (Life is hard, I know.) We decided to go on a hike through the jungle right there on the beach. Though we claimed it was for the exercise, we both knew that, deep down, we were hoping to see a monkey. At one point we decided to stop for lunch, and something incredible occurred. Isaac took off his backpack, and I turned around just in time to see a monkey hanging from a branch no more than two feet away from my face. I was left speechless. I wanted to pinch myself to make sure it was all real. Believe me, it was more than real.
Seconds before I decided to go home, because I had already fulfilled my only true ambition for doing Study Abroad in Costa Rica, the monkey hopped off the branch to the ground. Then, using a stance that would make all even the grumpiest of old men swoon, “Oooooh! Cute!” the monkey walked toward Isaac with his arms extended outwards as if he were going to hug him. Amazed at this monkey’s lack of social bashfulness, Ike and I watched the scene unfold, hardly believing our luck at getting this bonus experience. The monkey then stopped in front of Isaac, looked up at him with those darling, little monkey eyes, and that soft, tiny, fury face … before he viciously ripped open Isaac’s backpack and threw his hairy hand straight down into it, thrashing around, trying desperately to grab the bananas we had packed for lunch.
Though the shock of our dream monkey actually turning out to be a petty thief did throw us off, Isaac had the presence of mind to try and wrestle his backpack away from the greedy little primate. After a bitter struggle, Isaac came out on top, and the monkey retreated. The rest of the trip we spent in horror as we tried to make it out of the jungle in safety, flinching at every movement in the trees above us, every leaf that dropped, every tourist with exceptionally hairy bodies. We consider ourselves lucky to have escaped that monkey death trap.
Now, having shared that absolutely terrifying story, I hope that we can all learn a lesson from this tragic experience. Some of you might be thinking that this teaches us about the loss of innocence and the rites of passage of growing from a boy to a man. If you thought that, you must be an English literature major … and you are wrong. First of all, we learn that all monkeys are bad. Second, we learn that we can base our knowledge of all monkeys on this one event.
I never dreamed that I would be the one to take all of your fanciful views of monkeys and rip them up in front of your face. But now I know it is necessary. You may feel secure just because you live in Logan, Utah, which is not the natural habitat of any known, wild monkeys (I repeat, “known”), but I hope you are not so easily deceived. It starts out with bananas in backpacks in Costa Rica, but the next thing you know it will have moved on to Big Macs, outlet malls, stealth bombers and nuclear weapons in our very own backyards.
Last Spring Break, I met a guy who had a Web site dealing with such a monkey invasion into the powerful public entity of Hollywood. At first I was skeptical, but after this recent experience, it is looking more and more likely. Do not be afraid of checking out his views at monkeyconspiracy.com, but I warn you, be prepared to be amazed.
Is it hopeless then? Do we give in to our eventual demise and wait for the Planet of the Apes to be more than a movie, but reality? No. It is still possible to put an end to this impending menace. Write to your senators, your local leaders, and Dear Abbey, and detail out our dilemma accompanied with the proposed solution. What is our solution? I have three words for you: Monkey skin caps. Preferably more than a barrel full. Until then, beware of the monkeys.
Marty Reeder is a senior majoring in history education. Comments or grooming sessions can be arranged at martr@cc.usu.edu.