Page 50 of The Big Race
As we made our way back to the starting point, Ray broke the silence. “I guess sometimes charging ahead isn’t the best strategy,” he admitted.
I smiled, appreciating his openness. “And sometimes, taking a leap of faith is necessary,” I replied.
When we returned to the clearing where we’d started, we handed the idol to a native who handed us our next clue. “It’s a checkered flag,” I said.
On the Big Race, a checkered flag was the symbol for a warning, which meant there was danger ahead. Nothing life-threatening; there was always a film crew around, and a medic with a first aid kit. But when you’re in your late forties, like Ray and me, you’ve got to be extra careful not to fall and break a hip or something.
“Alligators or monkeys,” Ray read. “We can swim across the river, but there may be alligators,” he read. “Or we can take the foot bridge, but there may be monkeys.”
“Monkeys,” I said. “I don’t think I can outswim an alligator, but I bet I can outrun a monkey.”
The tribesman grinned when we pointed toward the foot bridge, showing us the three teeth left in his mouth, and then led us to a rope ladder along the side of the cliff which led to the bridge. We donned safety helmets, gloves, and those head-mounted cameras again. The tribesman attached a safety wire tomy belt. I grabbed the sides of the ladder and stepped onto the first rung.
The ladder wobbled, and I paused, but Ray wouldn’t let me stop. He knows that the more I think about something the crazier I get. “Go on, babe,” Ray said, pushing on my butt.
A scruffy monkey sat cross-legged on a rock ledge above us, staring down. He scratched his behind and chattered something. “Nice monkey,” I said.
It looked like he was waving at us, and I waved back. Then I felt something splat against my shirt. When I looked down, there was a wet, brown blob. “That rotten monkey just threw his poop at me!” I said to Ray. “Where’s a bazooka when you need one?”
Ray burst out laughing. “Baby poop, monkey poop. It’s all the same.”
“I don’t remember any kind of poop being part of our family planning efforts.”
Fortunately for us, when we adopted Leo, he already used the bathroom without prompting or complaint.
The monkey was scratching his butt again, and then winding up for the pitch. I ducked this time, and the poop hit Ray on the cheek and chin. I clambered up the ladder as fast as I could, as another monkey joined the first. I don’t know what those guys eat, but they should really consider changing their diet, because their poop was soft and runny. They must be hell on toilet paper.
I reached the top of the ladder and changed the hook on the safety harness to a guide wire running next to the bridge railing. Ray was right behind me, and I started to run across the rope bridge, which swung wildly in the air over the rushing stream below. More monkeys appeared in the trees, chattering and swinging from vines. It was like walking into some kind of Tarzan movie.
There was poop flinging all around us. I pounded across the wooden slats, holding onto the rope guidelines, as Codyfilmed us from below and our cameras caught our laughter and grimaces. I saw a gray-haired monkey take aim against Cody and splat! There was poop all over the poor guy’s lens. Cody cursed as the monkey swung away, laughing and chattering.
Ray and I struggled up the hill, using trees for support, tiny pebbles scattering below us. I was hot and sweaty and I smelled like monkey diapers, but I was determined not to fall behind. I knew we’d passed the NBA wives before the bridge, so I hoped we’d be safe from elimination.
As we crested the hill, I was relieved when we spotted the Stop’n’Go ahead of us and saw that there were still four envelopes left on the board. But Desiree and Cherisse were right behind us, and every place closer to the top was an advantage.
Ray raced on ahead, calling back to me in frustration. He couldn’t check in at the Stop’n’Go until I was there. But I wasn’t in the kind of shape he was, and I got a terrible stitch in my side.
I finally made it to the check in mat, gasping and panting, and Julie announced, “Ray and Jeffrey, you are team number five!”
That was a great position, solidly in the middle of the pack. I bent over, trying to catch my breath, and Ray took my hand and said, “Just breathe, babe. You were terrific.”
We caught our breath and then walked over to where several other teams stood. We looked at each other’s disheveled, filthy state – and burst into laughter.
“Did that really just happen?” Gemini gasped between giggles. “Did we really just get attacked by poop-flinging monkeys?”
“Welcome to The Big Race,” George said, wiping tears of laughter from his eyes. “Where dignity comes to die.”
Chapter 23
Teams Like Us
Iwas still catching my breath when I noticed Fletcher and Adrienne watching us from a few feet away. They’d finished the challenge shortly before us, and Fletcher was still wiping monkey poop from his hands.
“Good climb,” Ray called out to them, always the good sport. “You guys made that hill look easy.”
Fletcher nodded curtly, his buzz cut gleaming with sweat. “Thanks. You weren’t too bad yourselves.”
There was something in his tone that made me bristle slightly. A hint of surprise, as if our performance had defied his expectations.
