Most of my friends and I have something in common. Almost all of us have one parent who wasn't exactly what we had in mind. They are liars, drunks, lunatics, or a little bit of all three. Some vanished, never to be heard from again. Some found second and third wives and forgot to tell us. Some became new people and taught their new children how to play games their old self would have laughed at. Some spent time in rehab or the loony bin. Unfortunately, some did not. Some show up once or twice a year for an awkward dinner filled with stilted conversation and long silences that oddly resembles a very bad date.
My mother thinks there is no normal and nobody has a perfect situation. I am willing to agree. Yes, everyone has their stuff and, no, it is not always those you suspect. However, I don’t think that everyone has a parent who lives in a farmhouse with a menagerie of exotic animals, including a Chinese chicken and a potbellied pig, while their girlfriend works in the basement simultaneously making gourmet dog biscuits and separating plasma from blood with her centrifuge. I also don’t think everyone has a parent whose spouse shows up at his place of business waving a marriage certificate because they refuse to admit that they are legally wed, or has an aging punk rock rocker parent that lives in a house filled with dogs and trash. Our parents certainly do not lack a flair for the dramatic, or the bizarre.
No, I don’t think everyone has these type of stories, but this is just a theory on my part. It is just a theory on my part because almost everyone I'm friends with does. I think that there are people who don’t, but I usually don't meet them. They are busy attending potluck dinners in their church basements while smiling, and telling jokes that are neither cynical, or ironic. They are busy playing wholesome games, like charades, and scrapbooking. At least, I think so. I've never been invited to any of these kind of functions, but I imagine they are happening somewhere right now.
My friends and I have wicked senses of humor. We learned a long time ago that along with the dissapointments came some pretty hilarious stories that could put David Sedaris to shame. However, we try to only tell them to eachother. If we slip and tell one of our tales to someone from the scrabbooking/ potluck supper set they will mistake the comedy for tragedy and give us sympathetic looks with moist eyes and nod their heads sadly. They will not understand the punchlines and usually suggest that we speak to a professional.
Now, my friends and I have reached are 30s and have done our best to let go of the fact that one half of our genome is filled with a disturbing amount of crazy. We have also tried to wish our parent the best and not to waste time acting like moody teenagers. However, sometimes we slip and are known to lament the fact that our families are not at all like the one featured on Seventh Heaven.
However, I think there is something that should make us feel much, much better. No matter what our stories are, they are nothing compared to what the Komodo Dragon has to deal with. Before my trip to Komodo Island all I knew about the Komodo Dragons was that it was the animal that Matthew Broderick saved in that move The Freshman he did with Marlon Brando about the mafia run fine dining club where people eat endangered species. I soon learned a lot more.
The Komodo Dragon’s mom lays her egg and must guard the nest constantly. Why? Because if she doesn’t their dad will come, dig them up, and eat them. This constant guarding lasts for about three months. After this the mother either dies [from not eating for 3 months, the constant guarding leaves no time for eating] or gives up. Nine months later when the eggs hatch they have to run like hell up the closest branch. Why? Because if mom has survived she will try to eat them too! They have to spend THREE years hiding in the trees until they get big enough to defend themselves from their parents who both think they look like a tasty, tasty meal. Yikes.
At first I felt some sympathy for these beasties whose parents are totally out to get them right from the start in a very serious way. However, the more I learned the less and less sympathy I could muster up.
They are crazy predators who lay in wait for their prey and can eat an entire deer in one sitting, including it’s BONES. They also like to eat buffalos and wild boars. They run super fast and have saliva filled with deadly bacteria. One Swiss tourist disappeared in the 70s and all they found left of him were his glasses and a map. They have also had several rangers attacked by dragons who waited patiently underneath the stairs to the tourist cafe. They claim that they rarely eat people, but I'm just not sure I believe it.
When I visited Kimodo Island I became less and less convinced I would make it out alive the more my guide told my friend Jackie and I about the dragons who roam freely around the little island. The only source of protection our guide had was a big stick. I asked if he ever had to use it. He said all the time. I asked of it always worked. He said, “NO”. He said often times he had to run away from the dragons in a zig zag or scrambled up the closest tree. I looked around and saw no climbable trees and was not too optimistic about my zig zag skills on a muddy trail while wearing a pair of old, slippery Vans. I was suddenly much less excited about seeing this endangered species in it’s natural habitat. I did end up seeing a few dragons, but, luckily, none of them found me too delicious. They looked very lazy, but I didn't buy it. That's how they trick you so they can eat you up when you least expect it.
Right before I left, my friend Sofia kept telling me how dangerous they were. She even forwarded me about the article about how Sharon Stone’s then husband lost part of his foot in a Komodo Dragon attack at the LA Zoo about ten years ago. Apparently, Miss Stone gave the behind the scenes tour as a gift for Father’s Day to her hubby. I don’t think she did a lot of research before she decided on that gift. I have a feeling that Father’s Day and Mother’s Day is just not a very popular day for the dragons. I bet the dragon that ate part of Mr. Stone’s foot was just feeling extra sensitive that Father’s Day. I mean if your parents were constantly trying to make a meal out of you, you wouldn’t feel much like participating in a day to celebrate them, would you? I'm pretty sure Sharon would have been better off just buying her mister a nice tie. If she had, her X would probably still have all of his toes.
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