My toddler longs to ride an elephant. It is a wonderful childish dream, but I don’t expect it will happen. When our young parent group from church arranges a trip to the Philadelphia Zoo, I learn you can ride on elephants and camels. Emelyn is so excited! She talks about it for days. She is going to ride an elephant. I am so excited to see this fantasy flip into reality.
The day of our trip, we find our way to the elephant paddock. The gentle giants are led around a circle by handlers. They seem perfectly content to let humans sit on their backs as they take exercise. But, oh my goodness, the size of them. Riding a horse is intimidating enough. What will an elephant be like?
Emelyn and I wait our turn; Dan watches from the side. We climb onto a platform and get handed up onto the massive beast’s back. I lean forward and whisper, “Look at us! We are riding an elephant!” I imagine I hear the strains “dreams come true” playing softly.
Emelyn is taut and attentive. Primal fear of our precariousness invades my mind. Our route shouldn’t take long. I clench Em and balance myself. I’m ready to finish this baby-bucket-list check-off. Half way around the paddock the handlers chatter excitedly as our elephant stops. What in the world? “Sir? Is everything okay?” I try to act calm. Emelyn stiffens and I fear I’ve forever ruined adventures.
It seems our elephant hears nature’s call. (Thankfully, not the call of the wild.) Great muscles move under my thighs and seat as peristalsis gets active. This might take awhile. Em looks around wide eyed. I can’t let my sweet baby’s dream end in tears. I spy Dan outside the enclosure and ask urgently, “Can you take this baby to that man right there?” The handler calls to another who stands by my pooping pachyderm. Em goes into the arms of a stranger who races across the paddock and returns her to her father.
My ride eventually gets her business done and eases back into line. I am finally deposited with my family. I try to act cool . . . being stuck on an elephant taking a dump is no biggie.
We get the bright idea to visit the National Aquarium and give animal encounters a second try. I stand before the thick glass of the Beluga tank. I might have gone my entire life without considering riding an elephant, but swimming with marine mammals stirs my imagination. The magnificent white whale swims my way. I resist the urge to put my hand to the glass and wave. She stops right in front of me and cocks her head my way. Can she see me? In an instant she darts at the glass towards my nose. I startle and jump back. That beluga whale laughs at me. Wait, that Beluga whale laughs at me? She has her mouth split into a wide smile and nods her head up and down while her body ripples as in giggles she can’t control. I look at Dan. What just happened? She swims my way once more and waits patiently at the glass. Our eyes meet and she does it again! And I jump again! This time she is clearly laughing at me. As Dan is my witness, that whale is laughing at me.
So much for large mammal friendships. One was pooped out from under me. The other was laughed into oblivion. From now on I’ll confine my animal encounters with man’s best friend.
Your turn: Ever have fantastical thoughts about friendships with large mammals?
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