Confessions of a Dangerous Herpetologist

Simply Unlistenable

Put yourself in my shoes for a moment. I know they smell bad, but it won’t take long. You’re sitting in Club Hana, a small karaoke bar on the island of Guam. On either side of you are your coworkers, two young men with whom for the past several hours you have been partaking in libations. The lad on your right is trying to woo the bartender, who, although nice enough, isn’t being very receptive to his advances. This may in large part be due to the fact that most of these come in the form of marriage proposals. The southern fellow on your left has found his endurance for the evening tapped out, his main goal now being to get home and into bed.

The scene is mellow, although also mixed with an air of tension due to escapades in this establishment from the recent past. The owner, Ms. Kyung, remembers all too clearly certain events involving the southern fellow and another person that lives in your building. Mainly these were mild, albeit rude, instances where the scalawags sang into the microphone at inappropriate times (i.e., when others were singing) or uttered disrespectful expletives within hearing range of the management. They were swiftly removed from the premises, luckily without the aid of large, muscle-bound men with tattoos.

So, Ms. Kyung is sitting there, watching some terrible Jean-Claude Van Damme movie on the USA Network, trying to ignore the presence of you and your friends. The only other folks in the bar are a group of three sitting at a table behind you and the “Buy Me Drinkee” girls (of which there are three or four), as they are known, at a large table near the entrance. At one point during the evening, one of said ladies asks if you would like to buy her a drink. Desiring to keep the little money you have, not to mention your self-respect, you politely decline.

Soon you acquire the karaoke songbook and peruse through, looking for a few tunes you could botch. You pick three, writing down the numbers individually on Post-It notes. The bartender comes over and informs you that each song will cost $1 to sing. This is especially perplexing, seeing that two weeks prior you had been there and songs were free. In fact, no karaoke bar you have ever been in has charged a fee for songs. Apparently they had just administered their Annoying Male Caucasian tax. Wanting to sing, but feeling any fee is excessive, you decide to choose one song from those you selected. At random, the lad on your right picks the one and only selection you will sing that evening. It’s “Simply Irresistible” by Robert Palmer.

Okay, I’ll take my shoes back now. They didn’t fit you, anyway. As we all know, after having several drinks, one who ordinarily does not sing well tends to sing with even less skill. To make matters worse, a drunken person, although often sounding terrible, will think they sound better. Dehydration doesn’t exactly help make this any better, its least desirable effect in this situation being dry vocal chords. As soon as the screen comes up, one of the customers sitting at the table says, “Hey, Robert Palmer! Who chose that one? That’s my uncle! He died.”

Of all the karaoke bars in all the world, Robert Palmer’s niece had to walk into mine. My singing, if you can call it that (which you can’t), was horrible as expected, but made slightly worse since I knew family of the deceased was present. At one point she yelled out, “Oh, you’re ruining it!” Yes, that didn’t really need to be pointed out. Although in reality I wasn’t at all concerned about my singing, it did help to hear her sing, since she was terrible, as well. Apparently Uncle Robert’s vocal prowess didn’t make it very far in the gene pool, if she was even a blood relative.

Apart from taking a bike ride to the refuge, that’s my big story for the weekend. Not very exciting, I know, but pretty funny in its randomness. It has been a laid-back weekend, following a rather busy workweek. Karen and I have started to help Haldre more with the Rapid Response program, which will soon occupy most of our work time. A new session of training begins this Tuesday, with individuals coming from Hawaii and a couple other places. Karen and I will basically be learning how to conduct the trainings on our own. This has been made a necessity since Haldre is leaving in a few months. Karen and I are potential candidates to take over in Haldre’s place once she leaves, but who finally fills the position is very much yet-to-be-determined. They may end up hiring out for the job, but it comes down to who Haldre feels would be best for the position, since, of course, she wants to program to continue growing in a positive direction.

Speaking of Haldre, she and Brent are in Hong Kong right now, attending the big rugby tournament there. I’m sure they’re having a blast, especially since they’ll be chillin’ at the Holiday Iiiiiiiin. I’d like to think they’ll find the inspiration to bust out onto the field and start playing in the games. It would be a short-lived cheap thrill, but what a rush… before security tackles you. With any luck Brent is staying away from the mass quantities of “free heroin” he mentioned. Some of you may remember his conversation with a friend that I discussed a few entries back. I think it should be stated for the sake of all concerned mothers out there that he was, of course, kidding. I hope.

This coming week there are several birthdays going on. Well, one, Claudine’s, was a couple days ago. She didn’t say anything at work, although the flowers in her hair should supposedly have been a give-away. I guess I just don’t fully understand how Kiwis do things. I still think we should have a belated party, because any excuse to thrown a party is a good one. Today, the 28th, is my dear friend Cocoa’s birthday. Cocoa (Carolyn, to no one except the companies to whom she pays bills) and I met in high school and both went to UVM, where we were roommates for a couple years. She’s a great gal, funny as hell and frequently with her mind in the gutter, just like me. On Tuesday, my Mom will be celebrating her birthday. If you happen to be in the Carpenter School lunch room that day, or strolling by one of the classrooms she may be in, wish her a happy birthday. Even better, you could take her place in the lunchroom for that afternoon so she can go buy some shoes. Odds are you won’t be able to keep the little hooligans in line like she can, but don’t feel badly. Her ability to maintain order among a large group of unruly children is a rare one, indeed. If her air of authority doesn’t keep them under control, the fear she instills in their hearts certainly will. Ah, how many times I felt the sting of a wooden spoon, looked for her eyes behind the dark sunglasses at swimming lessons (only to find an unresponsive, unimpressed look), and got the stare-down scolding for behaving badly. Although these things occasionally happened, I say them in jest. My mom is a wonderful, caring, funny woman, who only in rare instances abuses her siblings. Well, presently. It was much more frequent in her youth.

This morning, Andy and I went into work early, mainly so Andy could climb up talus slopes in pursuit of the small furry woodland creatures commonly known as rodents. In clothing rarely worn by professional climbers, Andy managed to ascend the cliffs bare-handed and entirely free of ropes. His efforts were rewarded when he found the illusive Sorex cliffenhidis, which proceeded to bite him. Although such shrews are deadly poisonous, the high concentration of testosterone in Andy’s body saved him. In fact, it may have even made him stronger.

Given my relative lack of interest in the subject of rodents (despite the excitement), I decided to take the opportunity to take some photos around the refuge. Ritidian Point is a beautiful spot and by far one of the more picturesque areas on the island. It’s a great place to have an office, even if that office completely lacks windows (denying you in the rare instance you may want to actually enjoy the gorgeous landscape). I took a walk down to the beach, where I took a few photos of the butterflies omnipresent in the area. I’m not sure exactly why they flutter around in such large numbers down by the beach (I’m guessing there’s a particularly tasty plant on whose nectar they like to feast), but there are hundreds of them in a small area.

Afterwards, I went into the back fields below the cliffs. After taking some shots of the large, yellow spiders, also unavoidable on island (as some of you may remember from previous entries), I saw something completely unexpected. As I strolled near the forest edge, I took a large monitor lizard by surprise. Immediately, it took off on a run and I quickly pursued. I managed to catch up with it before it reached the jungle and, knowing it would be overtaken, it hunkered down in a small patch of grass. I managed to get a decent shot of its face before it broke into a run again, this time making it into the forest. I followed, and luckily it climbed up a tree, from which it decided escape wasn’t really an option. I got a few more photos of it hanging out in the top of the tree. It was awesome. Monitors aren’t extremely rare here, but you don’t see them very often. It was definitely a treat.

Posted by Isaac at March 29, 2004 5:59 PM