I managed to stay awake nearly
the entire car ride late Wednesday evening. It was well after midnight, but both
Imraan and I were wired, upholding conversation, and song/whistle duos. We started
up the winding pass leading into Winter Park, where even the dimmest lights in
the distance vanished, and my eyes slowly drooped closed. And it was a peaceful
quiet. Far away from deadlines and to-do lists.
“BEAR!!!!” Imraan shouted, hitting the brakes as our rental slid on the loose gravel - my heart sky-rocketing into consciousness. I strained to focus on the blur in front of our car.
“Bear. Bear. Bear! Bear!! That is a BEAR, baby! Look. Look. Look!!” Imraan shone our headlights on the large black blur. Within seconds, his shrieks were understood.
Hovering in front of our car was the world’s most glorious and petrifying animal I’d ever laid eyes on. It only took me a few seconds to grasp the situation until I launched into survival mode. “Imraan, he is going to shake our car! He’s going to flip us upside down! He will bash in the windows! His fists are as big as my head! He does not like the way we’re looking at him! He is much, much bigger than us. Can you hear me? Imraan, can you please put it in reverse? No, no, no… stop moving forward… REVERSE! He does not like the way we’re near him! He’s hungry! He’s been hibernating all… winter…long. Look at his mouth. His head. His backside. Move back, Imraan!!”
The bear took a long, slow look at us from over his right shoulder, then used his massive bear limbs to leap over the fence away from us and settle in… adjacent to the dimly lit walkway to our condo. The reality of the situation was now fully settling into my frantic brain. Not only did we just see the world’s largest bear and escape death in our rental car, but now… now we were going to have to get out of our car, and somehow make it past the mammoth guarding the walkway to our door. I had a 50 lb. rolly American Tourister suitcase. And at this point, we couldn’t see the bastard. How is it that we couldn’t see that 1,000 lb. bear? Because, I told Imraan, he was creeping in a low place under the stairs, awaiting his midnight snack - two skinny kids from LA.
Over the next hour, Imraan and I had a serious talk about the value of life. From my standpoint, I hadn’t yet turned 29, I was just getting to a happy place in LA, I had a delivery of organic blood oranges coming, and I really, really wanted to ski that weekend. I still had a lingering desire to run a marathon. I was just figuring out who I wanted to be in this crazy world. I realized that I hadn’t told my family everything I wanted. My roommate was still in Spain. Who would walk the dog? My mind was racing more than I’d ever experienced. Which is a lot to say for someone like me.
We applied logic to the situation. I estimated our percent of death - should we exit the vehicle - at 15 percent, and strongly recommended we wait the bear out and sleep inside the rental. You could tell Imraan was hesitating to convince me otherwise, as he cautiously looped around in circles, honking the horn and shining the headlights across the walkway where we’d last seen the bear. He talked me out of taking my suitcase inside. He said I could live without my face wash and favorite pair of flannel pjs. He convinced me that the bear was gone. I argued back, offering compelling logic why he was still waiting by our door. I convinced myself we were now at a 25 percent risk of death. But somehow, some way, I gave in and let go...
The snow crunched under our shoes, as we moved toward the light of the complex. My body was stiffening the closer we got to the light, and although we talked about a strategy of being as loud as possible, I felt myself silencing my breath and movements. My boots made contact with the walkway. All I could feel was Imraan’s hand pulling me. I must have blacked out or fainted while standing, because the next thing I remember was pounding up the stairs and arriving at our condo door. Imraan struggled to insert the key card into the door. Red light. Swipe again. Red light. Swipe slowly. Red light. It wasn’t working!! I heard rustling in the darkness. Shit. Death. We started pounding on the door. Nothing. POUNDING. His parents were inside sleeping, and our only hope at this point was them.
We must have pounded for a minute. That minute was the longest, and most vulnerable I’ve ever been. And I felt a feeling of terror, having been confronted with actual death, that by the time the door was opened, I was overwhelmed with the joy of being alive.
Over the course of the weekend, we never did see that bear again, but not surprisingly, the conversation seemed to unfailingly make its way back to him.
At least… I got my blood oranges. And, I made it to 29.
“BEAR!!!!” Imraan shouted, hitting the brakes as our rental slid on the loose gravel - my heart sky-rocketing into consciousness. I strained to focus on the blur in front of our car.
“Bear. Bear. Bear! Bear!! That is a BEAR, baby! Look. Look. Look!!” Imraan shone our headlights on the large black blur. Within seconds, his shrieks were understood.
Hovering in front of our car was the world’s most glorious and petrifying animal I’d ever laid eyes on. It only took me a few seconds to grasp the situation until I launched into survival mode. “Imraan, he is going to shake our car! He’s going to flip us upside down! He will bash in the windows! His fists are as big as my head! He does not like the way we’re looking at him! He is much, much bigger than us. Can you hear me? Imraan, can you please put it in reverse? No, no, no… stop moving forward… REVERSE! He does not like the way we’re near him! He’s hungry! He’s been hibernating all… winter…long. Look at his mouth. His head. His backside. Move back, Imraan!!”
The bear took a long, slow look at us from over his right shoulder, then used his massive bear limbs to leap over the fence away from us and settle in… adjacent to the dimly lit walkway to our condo. The reality of the situation was now fully settling into my frantic brain. Not only did we just see the world’s largest bear and escape death in our rental car, but now… now we were going to have to get out of our car, and somehow make it past the mammoth guarding the walkway to our door. I had a 50 lb. rolly American Tourister suitcase. And at this point, we couldn’t see the bastard. How is it that we couldn’t see that 1,000 lb. bear? Because, I told Imraan, he was creeping in a low place under the stairs, awaiting his midnight snack - two skinny kids from LA.
Over the next hour, Imraan and I had a serious talk about the value of life. From my standpoint, I hadn’t yet turned 29, I was just getting to a happy place in LA, I had a delivery of organic blood oranges coming, and I really, really wanted to ski that weekend. I still had a lingering desire to run a marathon. I was just figuring out who I wanted to be in this crazy world. I realized that I hadn’t told my family everything I wanted. My roommate was still in Spain. Who would walk the dog? My mind was racing more than I’d ever experienced. Which is a lot to say for someone like me.
We applied logic to the situation. I estimated our percent of death - should we exit the vehicle - at 15 percent, and strongly recommended we wait the bear out and sleep inside the rental. You could tell Imraan was hesitating to convince me otherwise, as he cautiously looped around in circles, honking the horn and shining the headlights across the walkway where we’d last seen the bear. He talked me out of taking my suitcase inside. He said I could live without my face wash and favorite pair of flannel pjs. He convinced me that the bear was gone. I argued back, offering compelling logic why he was still waiting by our door. I convinced myself we were now at a 25 percent risk of death. But somehow, some way, I gave in and let go...
The snow crunched under our shoes, as we moved toward the light of the complex. My body was stiffening the closer we got to the light, and although we talked about a strategy of being as loud as possible, I felt myself silencing my breath and movements. My boots made contact with the walkway. All I could feel was Imraan’s hand pulling me. I must have blacked out or fainted while standing, because the next thing I remember was pounding up the stairs and arriving at our condo door. Imraan struggled to insert the key card into the door. Red light. Swipe again. Red light. Swipe slowly. Red light. It wasn’t working!! I heard rustling in the darkness. Shit. Death. We started pounding on the door. Nothing. POUNDING. His parents were inside sleeping, and our only hope at this point was them.
We must have pounded for a minute. That minute was the longest, and most vulnerable I’ve ever been. And I felt a feeling of terror, having been confronted with actual death, that by the time the door was opened, I was overwhelmed with the joy of being alive.
Over the course of the weekend, we never did see that bear again, but not surprisingly, the conversation seemed to unfailingly make its way back to him.
At least… I got my blood oranges. And, I made it to 29.
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