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Scott Cherney-The Man, The Myth, The Mythter
Category:
Travel
Publisher: Lulu
ISBN-10: 0557091969
Type: Non-Fiction
Pages: 140
Copyright: September 16, 2009
ISBN-13: 9780557091966
A trip to South Africa begins in disaster and ends in glory.
HAVE A NICE TRIP? SEE YOU NEXT FALL! Attending their daughter's wedding in South Africa promised to be the vacation of a lifetime. But first, they had to face the treacherous gauntlet known as modern day travel. Join this hapless, sometimes helpless couple as they brave their way through a never-ending obstacle course filled with such hazards as flight delays, the purgatory of layovers and an incompetent, uncaring air carrier that treats its passengers worse than their luggage. Waiting for them on the other side of the world are an honest-to-goodness safari with amorous lions and elephants with anger issues, a life-affirming visit to a South African school and an anxious bride and groom, standing patiently at the airport with a sign that reads: "WHAT TOOK YOU SO LONG? " The answer lies within the pages of PLEASE HOLD THUMBS: A NOT-SO-ROUND TRIP TO SOUTH AFRICA, a true tale of turbulence and triumph from travel mug Scott Cherney, author of RED ASPHALT
Excerpt
Morning came quicker than any of us had hoped, especially since it had been the identical early hour we had arisen to the day before. First on the agenda after the hearty South African breakfast was the first safari of the day, the best time to catch the animals out and about since, just like their human counterparts, this was rush hour to them. We had been told to bundle up as we’d traveling once again our open-air transport and the time of year in this part of the world had been winter. And damn effing brisk it had been indeed as we soon discovered zipping about the park with our trusty guide, Russell, at the helm.
As we discovered, morning had been the optimum time of day to spot animals. Everybody was out in force and on the move, giving us a glimpse of rush hour, Wild Kingdom style, complete with exhaust of a more organic kind as evidenced by the piles of poop left just about everywhere. Interestingly enough, many animals traveled in packs, such as the giraffe, zebra and wildebeest. According to Russell, this was a survival tactic. Each species in the pack looked out for one another, nature not just taking of itself but one another. As they crossed the roads ahead of us, the pack seemed to be a variation of the It Takes a Village philosophy taken to its most basic and natural conclusion: survival.
Since my knowledge of animals isn’t very extensive, I was surprised to learn that the wildebeest and the gnu are same creature. It wasn’t until I saw them trotting along that I heard them call, “Gnu! Gnuuuuu! Gnu!” like a cow with a hairlip.
Russell slowed our vehicle to a crawl as we encountered our first lions. Moving along at the beginning of their day as they always had, these magnificent beasts ignored the likes of us, staying primarily on one side of the road while we kept a safe distance. On the other side and trailing behind were three young rogue lions, looking as though they had a rough night on the town. Russell explained that these three teenage punks probably confronted the den the night before and try to throw their weight around, perhaps even attempting to take over. From their overall ragged appearance complete with fresh wounds, they appeared to have had their asses handed to them and kicked royally. Now rather demure and depressed, the boys had no other options at the moment other than tag along behind and behave themselves, the little bastards.
On our second run later that day, we stopped when we encountered a lion couple laying in the brush, just soaking up the rays and enjoying each other’s company. In hushed tones, Russell told up they were in the midst of mating, having it off with each other for the better part of the week. More than likely, they weren’t just complacent but totally spent. They could’ve just been sleeping off Boff #19. We sat in as much silence as possible so as not to disturb when, after a good half-hour, the tried couplerose and lumbered down the road. No sooner did they reach the center lane that the male hopped on his lady’s back and gave it to her right then and there. Why don’t we do it in the road indeed.
I couldn’t resist. I had to express my admiration.
“You, sir, are my hero!” I called out to my amorous champion. I would have applauded, but instead I just saluted.
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