I remember the day this picture was taken. I was vacationing in Phuket, Thailand in December of 2006. Tired of lounging by the pool in my hotel, I’d decided to brave the bus system and try to make my way into town. Don’t get me wrong, the buses came, just not regularly. And the price was 50 baht, if you weren’t a foreigner. A colorful assortment of people boarded the bus as we sped through the poverty-stricken streets of tropical Phuket. My senses were assailed by the unfamiliar sights and scents, not all of them pleasant because a chicken had joined our party. After a lot of waiting and haggling, I finally made it to the zoo, a feat that I considered worthy of accomplishment.
When I walked into the zoo, an orchid lei was placed around my neck. I smiled as the gate attendant tried to sell me a picture he’d taken just moments before. Aimlessly,
I wandered around the almost deserted zoo, stopping to look at the birds and warily skirting the venomous snakes, with whom I have a morbid fascination. Horrified at the sight of the cramped cages, I had to turn away.
In the elephant show, the elephants were forced to climb up and balance upon tiny colored platforms while sporting ridiculous, glittery costumes. Demeaned even further, they twirled pink hula hoops around their massive trunks. Tempting fate, the overworked elephants stepped over four brave zookeepers as they lie on the ground. I half wanted an elephant to step on the keepers as repayment for the sins the animals were forced to endure.
Still fuming, I decided to take in the monkey show. A very talented baboon performed all kinds of interesting tasks: riding a bike, retrieving different set objects, mowing an imaginary lawn, etc. At the end of the show, he stood atop a narrow post and posed with a bright red parasol. I decided to pay the 300 baht it cost to have my picture taken with him. A tiny baby monkey was placed in my arms and I had a hard time stifling my giggles as he proceeded to eat most of my orchid lei.
My spirits lifted, I came upon the tigers. I have always had a special place in my heart for these majestic beasts. Though I’d had my picture taken with one before, I was dissatisfied with the way it turned out because the man holding the camera had cut off part of my head. When I saw the price, 600 baht (almost $20) I stopped to think. I’ve always been parsimonious to a fault. Finally, I decided to go for it. After all, I WAS on vacation. And how many opportunities does one get to hold a tiger? Not many.
Finally convinced, I handed my fee to the attendant. He rattled off a phrase in Thai that I assumed meant “Thank you.” It could have been an insult for all I knew. The tiger was lounging under a small white pagoda with faux marble columns. I noted the enormous chain that tethered the behemoth to the structure, wondering if it would hold in an emergency. The tiger itself was massive in size, probably over seven feet long. The ebony stripes slashed through the white and rust colored torso as a warning to prey.
I approached cautiously, but the animal seemed almost bored by my presence, yawning and stretching lazily. Empowered, I sat down a few feet away. The attendant motioned that I should get closer, so I slowly put my arm over the beast’s back. Nonchalantly, the tiger sniffed and only barely took notice of me. The camera flashed a few times and I grinned idiotically. Then the foolish attendant had the brilliant idea to put my sunglasses on the tiger’s head. Stupid man. Suddenly the tiger seemed to awaken as if from sleep. He violently shook the offensive glasses from his crown and I stood paralyzed as they shattered against the concrete floor. The attendant gesticulated wildly for me to get away from the incensed creature. My pulse quickened as I darted out of the chain’s reach and into safety. Still breathing hard, I collected my possessions and headed for the zoo’s exit. To this day, I still wonder if being frightened was worth the 600 baht I paid for the experience.
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