The loose pet python in Gaithersburg this week brings back one of my funny Florida memories that’s just begging to be told. A shaggy dog story this is not. Nor is it a tale about the fish that got away. Hush up and listen — this is a personal true story in the category, a la Dave Barry, I’m not making this up. Here goes:
My then-hubby Mike had a not-so-Little Brother from the Big Brothers organization. Paul had been living with his grampa, who was his guardian. When Gramps died, Paul, 14, came to live with us for a short time before he was to move back to New Jersey with his mom.
That much was fine. The interesting part was Paul’s pet boa constrictor, probably about 6-7 feet long. I decreed he could keep the snake in the house provided it was constrained to Paul’s bedroom, and that Paul would assume full responsibility for feeding it. Paul proved to be a most dutiful caretaker.
One of the lad’s signature famous lines was “Jump back, fellow inmates!” — told with a quirky, twisty spring from one side to the other as he spoke the line. The snake was oblivious. I kept a wary eye on the door to the bedroom, ascertaining it was closed at all times.
As the date grew near for Paul to fly back to Jersey, Mike contacted the airline (Eastern! any readers old enough to remember Eastern? good grief!) about how to “pack” the snake. On three separate occasions, three different people offered the following instructions:
- Put the snake in a pillowcase and tie a knot in said pillowcase.
- Put the knotted pillowcase inside a carry-on flight bag and zip it up.
- Board plane with carry-on bag containing snake.
We shook our heads with skepticism after each call, but hey — three times? Three people? Maybe they knew something we didn’t know, so despite our doubts, we proceeded per their dictum.
Came the day of Paul’s flight and I was neck-deep in managing public relations for the first year of the Florida Renaissance Festival. Mike and I were taking the cheap way out for costumes, garbed simply as peasants. We planned to drop Paul, his duffel bag, his bicycle and…the snake…off at the airport and then hie to the festival.
You can picture the scene. As we went through the X-ray machine, a tough, stocky woman was the chief inspector. She reminded me of Clara Pelf in the 1970s flick, Semi-Tough starring Burt Reynolds and Kris Kristofferson. Inspector Pelf freaked out when the snake was clearly visible in the X-ray as the closed-up flight bag rode along on the conveyor belt.
“That snake is not going in the cabin with my passengers!” she shrieked. She would not be argued or reasoned with. “No way that snake is flying with people!” she bellowed. The clock was ticking — Paul had to get on the plane or it would leave without him — and I needed to make haste to the Renaissance Festival even though it was pouring down rain and our first weekend was headed for a wash-out.
To save time, Mike and I rushed Paul, his duffel bag and his bike to the boarding area, promising to get the snake to him as soon afterwards as we could. Done deal.
—
Paul is airborne. Mike, the snake and I drove around the airport to Eastern’s air cargo.
Once again, you can picture the scene: Mike and me in our peasant garb, both of us short, unassuming, non-threatening villager types. Me carrying the bag with the snake. Me, not Mike. Paul was Mike’s Little Brother but I was somehow the one charged with transporting the boa. We entered the air cargo office.
Standing by the counter were about a half dozen tall, husky, well-built he-men, just passing time on a rainy Sunday morning. We explained the situation and I held out the bag with the snake. Yegads! Not a single one of these hurly-burly strong men accepted! They even flinched! I couldn’t believe it. Here I am, not even 5′ tall, dressed like a hick from another era, and I wasn’t disproportionately concerned about the contents of the bag, and these giants were freakin’ out!
The Eastern air cargo desk refused our package. But as luck would have it, I had just finished researching and writing a blurb for the Tampa Bay area lifestyle magazine I edited about a specialty business, Air Animal, whose main service was shipping exotic animals and whose main client was Busch Gardens. Even though it was Sunday, I thought they might be able to help. Alas, I had to leave a message on their answer machine, and we had to take the snake back home for another night.
When we finally made a live connection with Air Animal on Monday, the upshot of the adventure was that the cost to ship the snake separately slightly exceeded the cost of Paul’s airfare (including standard luggage) and an upcharge for his bike. The snake arrived a day after Paul.
And I ended up with this funny tale that still regales me many years later.
Ta-da!