Comedy Potential and the Daily Mexican Lunch Combo Surprise

Chapter 47

Comedy Potential and the Daily Mexican Lunch Combo Surprise

Humour is getting a paper cut, comedy is falling down an open manhole and dying. – Woody Allen

The season is proceeding beautifully. Just this morning I took eleven Dutchies out kayaking, we saw seven grizzlies foraging on the shores and then from behind us across the cove I heard a distinct ‘phoosh’ and lo and behold, a pair of orcas had arrived in the cove. Everyone made it out and back safely, got some great photos and had a good time. This was a great tour, everyone smiling from ear to ear, and then I played them Auld Lang Syne as they boarded the plane depart, no doubt full ofstories for their friends back home of how spectacular their visit here was. That’s the ideal situation. That’s how it’s supposed to work.

Of course things don’t always go right and there are all kinds of daily possibilities for failure, disaster and calamity, or what I prefer to call, ‘comedy potential’.  A great tour that’s chock full of comedy potential is the Rainforest Hike. It consists of a series of challenges and obstacles that build character and provide you with the opportunity to look like an ass in front of an international audience. I like to think of it as a Japanese game show. The kind where hapless competitors have to wind their way through a ridiculous obstacle course with a plethora of perils and swinging balls and bats to knock them into the water. So here’s an overview of the elements involved in a typical rainforest hike.

1: Make a half hour journey up the inlet to the Kwalate river, during which you may be pounded by waves, or struck by asteroids.

2: Dock the boat against the floating dock at Kwalate, which may have become unmoored, may be galloping about and buffeted by waves, is slippery and usually covered in fresh slimy otter crap. Tie up the boat to the dock and bring out the guests.

3:  Walk along a long slippery log to retrieve the key for the tool chest; once again covered with poo and mysterious slippery substances.

4: Unlock the chest and lift a heavy awkward outboard engine from the box and attach it to a flimsy tin skiff, which may or may not be full of water.

5: Untie the skiff and launch it into the water. If you forgot to replace the bung plug, it will sink.

6: Attempt to start the recalcitrant engine, which seems to mock your very being. If it starts the first time, that means that it will die and humiliate you soon enough. (Beware of accidentally punching guests in the face as you repeatedly pull the start cord, while sweating and muttering.) If you forgot to refill the tank, it gets double comedy points.

7: Load some guests, most of whom are grandparents with hip replacements, into this skiff which is rocking in the waves like a bucking bronco and banging against the dock.

8: Ferry loads of guests to the shore where they may be eaten, and come back for more. This usually entails having the engine kick up into your face, stalling or both. At low tide you must weave across shallow waters, banging into rocks or at high tide, trying to unload septuagenarians in waist deep water.

9: Once you have ferried all the guests to shore, you need to flip down the wheels at the back of the skiff and wrestle it over rocks and stumps and mud to where you can tie it up. If it’s not tied securely, it won’t be there when you return and you’ll have to resort to cannibalism.

10: Good for you! You have made it through the first step! Now you just need to hike through the remote wilderness, avoiding injuries, animal attacks and savages, all the while interpreting the flora and fauna and ethno botanical, geological, paleontological, historical, cultural and metaphysical reality around you to a group ofpeople who may or may not speak English.

 11: When you get to the end of the hike, rest, serve some tea and cookies, skip stones and then repeat all the steps in reverse order.

At each step of the journey you are provided with the opportunity to create comedy. That is to say, something could go wrong and people will laugh at you. Provided you have no pride, this is fine.

So far, knock on wood, it has gone fairly well and I must say that I enjoy the adversity and uncertainty of journeying into the wilderness with all its unknowable mysteries. As the saying goes, “Adventure is only discomfort and adversity remembered from an armchair.” One time, when I was leaving the hike with some guests and trying to make it back to the floating dock, the waves were crashing over the back of the skiff as I was trying to launch and I was drenched and cold and miserable and cussin’ like a sailor while bailing with one hand and fighting the devil’s own engine with the other while banging into rocks and getting drenched in icy water. Now that I think about it that was a really good time.

So far nothing really funny has happened, I’ve always returned with the same number of guests and all my limbs and faculties intact. So far.

I think that’s why people golf. It’s so irritating and annoying to focus all your energy on this stupid little ball and its travels that you are consumed by frustration and forget all about your mundane life and its tribulations. So after all that venting and ranting and hacking away for 18 holes, you are ready to return to life renewed and rejuvenated and relieved to not be golfing.

So you may be wondering what the Mexican Daily Surprise Lunch Special is. It’s an analogy for how I live my life here. Have you ever noticed that Mexican food consists of the same four or five ingredients endlessly rearranged in new and interesting ways? How about some refried beans wrapped in a tortilla, with black beans on top and guacamole on the side. Or just to change things up, how about some guacamole wrapped in black beans with tortillas on top and refried beans on the side? It is an endless edible tetragrammaton of the same basic elements, so it is with my days at work.

I never look at the schedule board the night before, I like surprises. I’m not one to peek into a Christmas present or determine the sex of an unborn child. I figure the more mystery there is in life, the more I’ll enjoy it.

So every morning, I wake up in my attic, slide down the ladder, stumble towards a cuppa coffee and ramble over to the schedule board. That’s when I see what the Mexican Lunch special is: Estuary tour, Kayaking, Treestand, Inlet Cruise, Tracking Tour, Big Cedar Hike, Rainforest Hike. Those are the only items on the menu, endlessly rearranged to make each day a fresh and exciting adventure.

Then, throughout the day I find myself uttering snippets of languages I pretend to have learned to the various people who end up on my tours, for example:

Italiano - Guarda il urso bruno, y il scoiatolo, molto spectaculare. (Check out the grizzly and the squirrel, wow.)

Francais -Defense de marche en la caca d’os. (Don’t step on the bear shit)

Dutch -Hail sponend Ja? Keik, ein sea hunt! Wie gan turrugh! (Pretty cool eh? Look, a seal, let’s go home.)

I carry a little book to write down phrases in the different languages people come here with. By and large, folks speak English, but they always like to hear you attempt a few things in their language. I’m sure I could speak French if we just spent some time in Quebec, all those words are tucked away in a forgotten fold in my brain somewhere and could be awoken under duress.

Anyways, today is my (our) glorious seventh anniversary. (August 23^rd, 2:30 pm, 2003.) Unfortunately, I am here at work instead of at home for the occasion, and therein lays the main reason that this will probably be my final season here, it’s too much time to be away from my beloved ones, plain and simple.

The salmon are arriving, apparently the end of the world will have to wait for at least another season as Mother Nature marches right along and creates an ever changing, ever fascinating spectacle for us to savour.

Until next time...

Via con dos cojones!