Why I now hate monkeys
Written: Dec 03 '99
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Product Rating:
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Pros: they make for funny stories
Cons: they bite- are smelly, are obsessed with food, and they steal things
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| kristenulmer's Full Review: Monkeys |
There was a monkey sanctuary just up the road and I had a plan. It's a fact that a mountain bike looks much cooler with a few monkeys hanging off it, so I figured I'd put a banana on the seat, wait for a monkey to jump on, take a picture, send it to the Pro Flex marketing department, and they would use it for a multi-billion dollar ad campaign- Yeah!
I was on a solo bike tour in Bali, Indonesia. The monkey thing seemed like a good idea- real Asian too. But I vaguely remember a conversation with an anti-monkey activist I had while mountain biking in Africa a few years back. What had she said? I think it was "I hate monkeys", but she added a memorable sneer. The kind of sneer that goes along with snakes and festering boils and razor blades in the eyeball. What's not to like about monkeys? I thought. In the movies they have adorable human faces, jump up and down screaming and clapping, do back flips, throw food at tourists, hang from their toes off branches. They seemed like a good time… real cute.
It was decided. I rode to the gate, paid my fee, and went bouncing down a long stretched-out line of stairs. My panniers were flopping violently and middle-aged tourists were diving out of the way. Being obnoxious can be so much fun! I rode a few minutes around the park, but didn't see many monkeys out in the open. I stopped and leaned my bike against a stone wall.
I realized I had no banana.
For a pushy American, this is not a problem. "Excuse me," I said loudly to a passing German tourist, "do you have a banana?" As he reached into his bag- it was strange, but I could feel an energy level starting to form, as if the earth was building up tension, getting ready to erupt.
Instead of pulling out one banana, the German pulled out an entire bunch. There must have been fifteen little bananas on the one pod. As he held up the fruit to the sun like a prize, I saw his face abruptly turn gray. Behind me, in the jungle I could hear the screams of a hundred freaked out, starving monkeys passing the word "Bananas! They've got bananas! GET THEM!!!!!"
An swarm of at least 100 monkeys came flying out of the trees, and the German panicked. He handed off the rack of bananas into my stomach like a linebacker and went tearing off down the road, leaving me alone, confused and vulnerable. The monkeys dive bombed from all directions. My world became a wall of thumb-less hairy hands and flying bananas. The beasts were screaming, I was screaming, the tourists nearby were screaming at their loved ones to "Get the video camera! The video camera!". It was a noisy, desperate struggle, but still I hugged the bananas to my stomach, clinging to the once great notion of saving a single piece for a bike photo. I failed.
As quickly was the world had blown up, things became quiet. There still remained 5 or 6 monkeys sitting on my head and shoulders, or dangling off my camera bag, eating their bananas. I was completely violated, but the monsters were so cocky they thought it would be all right to hang on me and snack. I was still shaken up, and mildly annoyed when I happened to look at my bike. There were half a dozen monkeys hanging off the aluminum… MY PHOTO!
I darted to the bike, monkeys falling off me like, well, like monkeys do when the food is gone and an American woman is jumping around like a maniac. After taking a few pictures, I realized the little freaks were opening my panniers, stealing my stuff, and RUNNING AWAY INTO THE JUNGLE! Dammit! Arms waving, I rushed my bike- scattering the thieves. I quickly cinched everything tight again, and took off after them.
Within minutes I saw a little guy sitting on the ground jumping up and down shrieking, pulling apart a roll of film one arm length after another. It was hopeless.
I looked around and then everything became quiet. An odd feeling washed over me. I was alone, I didn't belong here, this was wrong, all wrong. I could see hundreds of eyes watching from the trees and bushes, like in a B-grade movie. One of the little bastards shouted "HEY! Isn't that the girl with the BANANAS?", and they all came roaring at me again like a tornado to a trailer park.
I ran, stumbling out of the jungle, covered with dangling monkeys. From what little I could see through fleas and fingernails, the videotaping tourist weren't laughing anymore, they were scared. I was more beast than human. I was a moving mass of fur, teeth, and long hairy arms. I sat down on the stone wall and felt depressed as the monkeys had their way with me.
There was my bike. My stupid bike that got me in this position in the first place. On it was an big, gray, king-of-the-jungle digging into my rear pannier zip top. "HEY!" I yelled and jumped up, scattering everyone onto the ground. I walked over to King Kong and saw he had my bike chain oil, so I grabbed one end and started a tug of war. He wasn't letting up and I was beginning to snap hard, so I freed one hand and "WACK!", clobbered him upside the head. Which was NOT a good idea, especially when dealing with a fierce little Rambo type. That evil jungle monster bit my hand… HARD! And before he did it, while holding onto my hand in a death grip, he looked me right in the eye and hesitated, as if to say "Sucker! And I'll bet you thought we were cute, HA HA!".
I know mountain biking can be dangerous, but this is a bit much. You probably won't have to watch your back in, say, Moab. But for the rest of the world, consider yourself warned.
Recommended:
Yes
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Epinions.com ID:
kristenulmer
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Member: Kristen Ulmer
Location: Salt Lake City, Utah
Reviews written: 25
Trusted by: 91 members
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