During my massage, Sue announced that one of the baboons had wrapped my Ace bandage around his leg. “Look, Chelsea. One of the baboons also tore his ACL.”
We then threw our underwear and bras onto the deck in the hopes of the baboons putting on a Victoria’s Secret fashion show for all of us. This did not happen, and instead we ended up with even fewer undergarments than we arrived with because instead of returning our wares with the respect I would imagine a baboon to have, they tore them to pieces with their mouths and then spit them out.
I, personally, was left with a single pair of safari underwear that guaranteed survival in seventeen countries for a total of six weeks. Shelly had purchased these for me for my real life before leaving for safari, and in my last-minute packing, my assistant found them amusing enough to throw them in my bag.
The instructions were to air-dry them each night, allowing the mesh they were made out of to breathe before reapplying them to your body each morning. How any underwear could sustain six weeks in any country, never mind South Africa, was a little over the top—in my professional opinion.
The massages lasted every day from the time our lunch ended around one until four p.m., when we would need to prepare for our afternoon ride. I, of course, insisted all massages take place in Shelly’s and my room, because I am a true codependent and I like to hear voices around me at all times. By the time we were able to assemble ourselves into any sort of respectable posse and make it to our afternoon ride, I usually had one eye half closed and had failed to take what Molly had suggested to me many times over: a “whore’s bath.”
Showering was pretty much out of the question with my leg and inability to maneuver it in and out of a shower without getting wet the kinesiology tape that bound my knee. Plus, the cuisine they served us on safari had a strong enough aroma to overlay any sort of lotion or soap Africa had to offer me.
On our afternoon ride that day, Simone proudly showed off once again her pants that unzip into shorts, revealing to us why she will forever be single.
Not long into the ride, Life saw potential lion tracks, so Rex dropped him off without a walkie-talkie and Life took off on foot. We all expressed serious concern for Life’s safety, but Rex explained to us that Life grew up on this reserve, was well versed on every hectare, and could smell a wild animal hundreds of yards away, which was probably what he was sensing when he hopped off his jump seat and disappeared into the bush. Within minutes we all forgot about Life’s safety.
While Shelly, Molly, and Sue brought out their 35 mm professional cameras with serious zoom lenses in anticipation of the onslaught of wildlife, Hannah decided it was time to bring out the big guns. She attached a mini-zoom to her iPhone, then propped it up on a tripod the size of a salad fork.
Since I am the world’s worst photographer, I instead decided to grill Rex about the interpersonal affairs at the camp and inquire whether he was sleeping with any of the other staff members who worked there.
Instead of responding to my inquisition, Rex instead started to track what he believed was a male lion. This was when we went off road for the first time and discovered Rex’s love of killing trees. He tracked the lion through about one hundred yards of bush, while five of us ducked underneath the seats in order to avoid being decapitated. Hannah decided not to and instead complained about getting whipped in the face with branches. “Well, then put your fucking head down, Hannah,” Shelly yelled.
We finally came upon the lion. He got up and circled our jeep more slowly and more menacingly than Betty White on roller skates.
“Be very still and very quiet [quah-ett],” Rex whispered as he turned the engine off.
Being that close to a three-hundred-pound male lion that was looking at all of us directly in our eyes was absolutely mesmerizing. I found it nearly impossible not to reach out and pet him or to break out into whatever the theme song from The Lion King is. I had never seen that movie, but at that point, I felt like not only had I seen it but also directed and scored it.
“Are you sure I can’t get out of the jeep for just a second?” I asked Rex. “If he doesn’t want to cuddle, I promise to come right back. Animals like me. You’d be surprised.”
“Do not get out of the jeep, Chelsea. This isn’t Universal Studios,” Rex replied.
After our victorious outing of spotting a lion and his eyeing us like prey for over an hour, it was time to go back to the lodge for our eighth meal.
“What will we be dining on tonight?” Molly asked.
“Kudo,” Rex replied. “They are the equivalent of tacos in Los Angeles.”
“You’re sure making a lot of references to California. Sounds like someone is looking to get a free ride to Los Angeles,” Sue murmured under her breath.
I decided to celebrate back at the lodge by ordering seven different drinks in less then ten minutes. It’s always been hard for me to decide what to drink, so I like to sample as much as possible, but I reason with myself that it’s not obnoxious since I always insist on paying for all of the drinks, whether I drink them or not.
I announced at this juncture that my relationship with Rex was going so well that I believed a realistic outcome would be for him to move to Los Angeles. “He’s obviously dropping hints.”
“That sounds reasonable, Chelsea,” Simone said. “I’m sure Rex will fit in nicely as one of the comedians on the roundtable, and then after he’s done taping he can go back to your house and do some landscaping, or shoot at all the water moccasins in your pool.”
At a group dinner with other safarigoers, we spied an older couple with sixteen-year-old triplets at a table near us. Reliably, Sue immediately accosted them to get their story. She ended up sitting at their table for a full one-hour interrogation. One of the triplets was a solid six feet tall and healthy while the other two were toddlerlike with voices that could have shattered glass. Clearly, the big one had stolen all of the food in the womb.
I spent my time questioning Ryan, the gay lodge manager, about the staff and who was sleeping together. “I worked in a restaurant for seven years—I know how this works,” I told him.
In his profound naiveté and innocence, Ryan informed me that Rex slept with Lilly, but they were not in a “formal relationship.” Ryan pointed her out to me, and I spent the rest of the night observing her and what she had to offer Rex.
June 25, Monday
By the third day of safari, each of us had gained between seven and fifteen pounds. Rex and Life started packing Bloody Marys and champagne in the jeep for our morning rides. “We’ve realized it’s better for you girls to have a little buzz,” Rex announced.
I surveyed my body and made a note in my BlackBerry to advise my assistants in the future to pack up to five different sizes of clothing depending on my length of travel. Sizes four, six, eight, ten, and twelve. Shopping for maternity wear prior to trips shouldn’t be ruled out either. There’s a great shop for expecting mothers in Los Angeles called A Pea in the Pod. “Start there,” I’d tell them.
The first thing we saw that morning was an elephant mother and her baby. I recommended rushing the elephants, because I had always wanted to have an elephant charge me. Rex pointed out that this would be disastrous and even in a jeep, we would be unable to outrun a mother elephant protecting her baby.
“Whatever,” I moaned. “This isn’t what I expected from you guys.” Quietly I wondered if the elephant would confuse me as one of her own, considering my recent weight gain. Then the mama elephant’s ears began to flop and she started toward us and made a loud trumpeting noise.