I had the great pleasure of meeting Treavioli in Vegas at BiSC. You meet in him person and just want to be his friend and hug him. This story cracks me up because while he was terrified, I would have done anything to have been sitting in his seat. Literally. Let’s just hope my experience on Safari isn’t anything like that man’s!
I was on my first flight out of the US, bound for Costa Rica. Nerves and excitement fueled my body and kept me awake, which was unfortunate because I had only slept 2 hours that morning before my red eye shuttle came to carry me off to DFW International. After connecting in Houston and Miami I was well on my way to seeing baby sloths and other cute animals in the lush tropical forests of Arenal and Monteverde.
It was a long flight so I occupied myself with my Nintendo DS (yes, I am 14 years old in maturity) and the tunes on my iPod. Towards the end when the pilot appeared on the speaker letting us know we were beginning to descend I had no choice but to come out of my self-contained world of 8-bit pixels and forested mixtape of tunes. It was then that I actually realized I was sitting next to 2 middle-aged women, who appeared to be traveling together. During a lull in their conversation, I interjected with something light and unimportant, but it led to me realizing that they were kickass, traveling women. They had been on all 7 continents, set foot in several countries, and had many adventures as a wildlife biologist and a middle school teacher!
I was particularly interested in what type of animals the biologist took care of and studied. She told me thewild kind. And I was skeptical looking at her, she was an older Caucasian lady, about 55-years old with a short and grey hairdo. How wild could they be. I mean, she wasn’t frail looking but she wasn’t a Hulk either. She went on to tell me about an incident that involved an over-zealous photographer and a leopard.
“We warned him not to get too close,” she said as a matter of fact. “But he got closer and closer to the fence.”
I winced a little, bracing myself and remembering the scene in Jurassic Park when T-Rex rose up with bloody goat strips slipping out of his mouth.
“He got too close and that leopard grabbed his arm, took a bite out of it and wouldn’t let go.”
“Did anybody do anything,” I asked, clinging to hope for the guy.
“Nope,” the biologist said. The school teacher laughed, and I looked at her like she was insane. She didn’t have compassion for idiots. “We raced him to the doctor, and the doctor asked where the arm was. I said, ‘Duh, the leopard has it!’” And we all laughed, but I felt bad for the guy.
She went on to say, “So yeah, I’m connected with some African wildlife conservation reserves. If you ever want to volunteer, let me know.”
I thought to myself, Volunteer to be some lion’s meal? Uh no. She’s probably in cahoots with a killer sea turtles, too. I gave her my business card anyway. Gratefully she hasn’t called, or worse, shown up on my doorstep with one of her furry wildlife friends.