HELP! A Bear Is Eating Me! - Mykle Hansen [2]
That was all going marvelously well until the bear sprinted up to me — who knew that much bear could move that fast? — and head-butted me backwards against the car. Then he began to sniff my pant legs, where I had recently spilled some smelly fluids and made a bit of a mess. I was dismayed and slightly embarrassed by this setback, but quick of wit and reflex. It was clearly time for www.GoAlaska.com’s Bear Survival Tip #2: If the bear attacks, play dead. (The theory is, usually a bear only attacks because he’s scared or threatened. Once he’s decided you’re not a threat he’ll just pee on you and go home. Let me tell you, merely being peed on by a bear sees like a real luxury to me now.) So, I faked a heart attack and slumped over.
And then … he bit me! Unbelievable! And then he bit me again, and again … so I turned to Bear Survival Tip #3 … for what it was worth. Actually Tip #3 is pretty worthless, but here it is: If the bear continues to attack … fight back vigorously! Oh, thanks for that one, GoAlaska dot assholes! Never would have occurred to me. Maybe if Tip #1 had been “Get in the Rover” and Tip #2 had been “Unlock the shotgun from the rack and load it with slugs” then Tip #3 would be a really handy, useful tip.
But wait … I think he’s stopped. Oh joy. I can’t hear much over the constant whir of mosquitoes, the opaque clouds of them that blot out the sun in this awful place … but I can hear that bear, breathing. He breathes like a congested linebacker hauling bricks up a staircase. He’s just sitting there panting from the exertion of speed-eating, licking his paws, digesting my foot, thinking about what next to do with his bear evening. And the light is fading. As soon as he goes away I might manage to wriggle out from under this axle, or reach the jack and lift it off me, or even if I could just reach that cardboard Wally’s box full of camping supplies — I stuck it under the car when I got the spare tire out, it’s just a few inches beyond the reach of my left hand but if I could wriggle, without looking like food, without agitating the bear — then I could have a beer, because all this violence is making me thirsty.
If you were real, perhaps you’d be feeling some pity for me at this point. Well, save it. Of course it sucks, this being-eaten-by-a-bear experience, this mechanical failure, this whole vacation. But I’m a bright-side looker, a positive thinker. A winner. I’m trapped in a world of suck, yes, but one thing that doesn’t suck is OxySufnix. And I’m going to take another one … in fact, I’ll take two, because I’ve got lots. I’m sure you’d like to hear the lurid details of my agonizing, soul-searing pain, but honestly I couldn’t tell you much about pain. I never feel it. All things considered, I feel great. I’m prepared, and double prepared, and over-prepared. My car let me down, my wife and my so-called team let me down, www.GoAlaska.com let me way the fuck down, but OxySufnix will not let me down. And if it does I’ve also got Percoset, Vicadin and Prolexia right here in my breast-pocket pillbox, plus Antix, Ritalin, Mercantin, and a host of other unofficially prescribed favorites stowed away in the hollow end of my stash box, which resembles a small cartridge of wintermint Binaca. So fuck you, bear. Eat my foot, see if I care. I’ll just settle in over here on the bright side, with my drugs, and wait you out.
Drugs are just one reason why I could never cast myself as one of those outdoor/nature/environment types. Technology treats me too well. Technology is so much better than nature at everything that nature’s supposedly good at, I just don’t see the point. Who needs scenery when you’ve got special effects? Who needs flora and fauna when you’ve got the Flora Channel and the Fauna Channel, not to mention the Woodland Park Zoo and a talented