I looked up and pointed out the Southern Cross. “Look, Simone. I did learn something on this trip. Those are the Southern pointers!”
“That’s the sun.”
Once we had dismounted from our elephant and were reunited with our group, Simone took it upon herself to announce, “Chelsea just asked me if the sun and the moon were the same thing.”
“What the fuck, Simone?”
“Oh, Chels,” Molly said, rubbing my head. “It’s amazing how much you’ve accomplished without really knowing anything. It’s like you have Asperger’s.”
“Thank you, Molly,” I said, snuggling into her. “What I have is Ass-burger’s. It is related to Asperger’s but is harder to diagnose.”
Andrew came over and shut down our love fest. He sternly instructed us to walk back over to our elephants and escort them to their stables, where we would put them down for their afternoon nap. Apparently, they were exhausted from their one-hour outing. Putting them to bed meant they were stored behind steel bars with a watering trough and a feed shoot at the bottom of their cage.
“As you can see, the elephants are free to come and go as they please,” Andrew assured us, as we all looked on, appalled. In my opinion, Andrew had Nazi leanings.
“Is that right?” Sue asked him. “So they are all able to just open the locks on these steel gates and walk right out? That’s pretty sophisticated.”
Andrew hated us and so did everyone else at the camp.
“So, what’s on tap for tonight, Andrew?” Shelly asked with her last shred of positivity.
“A nighttime elephant ride,” he said. “Totally different route.”
“There’s no fucking way I can sit through another elephant ride. That was the worst,” Shelly whispered to me. “And, it’s definitely not something anyone needs to do twice.”
When we got back to our villa, Hannah told us she had been in contact with Rex and that he was on leave as of that morning. He was ready and willing to come straight to Camp Dumbo, or he could meet us at the airport to go to Botswana.
“Airport!” I screamed. “And call our travel agent and tell her to get us the fuck out of this racket.”
“I already did. There is a daily plane that arrives here at one p.m. to drop off new guests—the same one we came in on. We can hop on that, which will transfer us to the airport in Botswana, where can meet Rex and take another plane from there. There is room for us at Mombo Camp, but since we’re coming two days early, they don’t have an extra room for Rex.”
“No problem!” Simone and I blurted at the same time.
“Sounds like there’s a little Sisterhood of the Traveling Coslopus happening,” Molly gurgled, and then rolled her tongue trying to make a sexual rhumba sound that I didn’t like.
“You guys can have him. I’m out,” Hannah stated, apparently referring to Rex.
“We should really get some sort of refund,” Molly insisted.
“At this point, I would pay double to leave early,” I told her.
“The plane is picking us up in ninety minutes. I already told Corbin that we are leaving early. And Rex is bringing all the clothes you left there, Chelsea. Not that any of them will even fit.”
“Wow, Hannah. Way to go. You really pull through in the clutch,” Simone said.
“Yes, Hannah. This is what I would refer to as a job very well done,” I confirmed, and offered her my fist to bump.
“Oh by the way, Chels, I just told Corbin that you had a double herpes outbreak on both sets of lips and the dry heat and all the white people were making it worse. That’s our reason for leaving.”
“That’s fine,” I told her. “Thank you.”
“I also got a massage from a guy named 7Up,” she told me. “Even the massages suck here. It felt like I was being attacked by a Navy Seal.”
Everyone scattered to their different areas to pack their belongings, and Sue headed toward the kitchen.
Corbin, Norman, and Frederic all arrived at our villa to “see us off early.”
“Okay, guys, we’re out of lime juice, so I had to use chicken stock,” Sue announced, with a pitcher of fresh margaritas in her hand. “Oh, hello, Corbin, Norman, and Siegfried.”
Simone grabbed the pitcher out of Sue’s hand and went into the kitchen to remake the margaritas. Frederic followed closely behind to make sure we weren’t stealing the silverware. As she emptied two two-liter water bottles into the sink and filled them with straight tequila, he shook his head in disgust.
“Sorry, Frederic, but we need closed containers for the plane. It’s easier for everyone if we have closed containers. It’s just disrespectful otherwise, don’t you think, Frederic?” she asked. Simone’s frown had turned upside down; she had turned into a full-blown enabler, and I liked it.
Our moods had made a one-eighty from when we arrived. We were happy again, not only at the prospect of going to a new country and a new camp, but we were even more excited at the prospect of seeing Rex again. Sweet, sweet, dead-toothed Rex.
As we got out of the jeep onto the airstrip and bid our adieus to Corbin, Sue reassured him. “Please don’t take it personally that we’re leaving, Corbin. What you’ve done here is amazing. It’s just hard to go from seeing elephants living their lives in the wild and not being bothered by humans, to seeing them put in a bunker every night and then being forced to take assholes like us on rides. But we wish you the best of luck.”
The six-passenger daily plane that was retrieving us was landing, and it slowed to a stop to let out four new arrivals. Between it and Corbin’s jeep was a small, covered pergola-type structure with a bench in it. I realized the only outdoor urination that had taken place at this camp was by an elephant, so I decided to relieve myself. It would be a one-hour plane ride to meet Rex at the next airport in Botswana, and I wanted to be as light as possible. As the passengers disembarked and headed over to Corbin’s jeep, I politely waved.
“I’m an American,” I explained as my reason for urinating in public, and then waited for them to pass me before pulling up my cargo shorts and lightly jogging over to the plane. We were greeted by the same pilot who had dropped us there two days earlier.
“Did you girls have a good time?” he asked, smiling.
“What do you think?” Hannah replied.
“Oh, shit! What about Hunam?” Molly asked. “We can’t just leave him here.”
“I already tipped him. I gave him whatever was left in Chelsea’s wallet,” Hannah informed us.
“Hannah, you’ve really managed to pull your shit together,” Shelly told her. “That must have been a great massage.” Then she turned to Simone. “Will you pass me one of the margarita bottles?”
Simone told the pilot we were going to need some cups.
“There are paper ones in the back and plastic up here in the front. Plastic has less give and is generally better for urine.”
My head spun around at his directness. “Are you single?” Then I nudged Sue and asked, “Who comes to the AIDS capital of the world without condoms?”
“You have the weed, right?” Molly asked Sue.
“I do,” Hannah announced.
Notwithstanding Camp Dumbo, Africa was turning into a hotbed of sexual tension.
There are no other pictures from this trip for legal reasons.
CHAPTER 4
REJECTION IN BOTSWANA
Rex was standing outside the airport in khakis and a T-shirt, when we landed at yet another South African airport. He looked different out of his safari gear, which was neither here nor there, but he was wearing flip-flops, and I prefer that men don’t do that. He was standing next to our South African airport greeter, also wearing flip-flops.
“Look who’s here!” I screamed as we got off the plane. “Rexy!” the six of us yelled as we ran over and tackled him on the tarmac. We were elated and drunk on love. He was as happy as we were, and there was no denying it.
The airport in South Africa that was our waystation to Botswana was the size o
f an El Pollo Loco and had eight gates in total. There was a little shopping area and the airport’s most important feature—a full bar, which was where we all hightailed it to reload our drinks.
A single man was in charge of the security check, and when he saw our two thermoses, he told us we were not allowed to board the plane to Botswana with any liquids. The girls all looked to me.
“I have diabetes,” I told him, holding up my right wrist in a statement of Black Power, and also because I presumed a closed fist was the current symbol for diabetes. “Type two.” The girls and Rex kept their heads during this exchange.
“Okay,” the man said, with a confused look on his face. “Come on through.”
Once inside the gate, we gleaned that once again we would be the only ones on the plane. Sue reminded us that we had hogged all the alcohol and that she and Simone were dead sober. “I’m going outside to smoke a cigarette,” she said, using air quotes.
Simone was the first one behind her, and we all followed suit. I informed the man at security that although we had already been through security, we needed some air. In order to avoid repeating our previous conversation, I told him, “We’ll leave our thermoses here and be back in time for the flight. Please make sure no one touches my juice.”
Our greeter led us outside to the front of the airport, which was on the opposite side of where we landed. There was a medium-sized parking lot in front of us. Sue took out two American Spirits, handed one to Molly, and motioned for her to go distract our airport assistant while we smoked the pure African ganja.
Somehow, on the plane ride Molly had become more intoxicated than I had seen her on the entire trip, and it was pretty fantastic. Being that she’s a bigger girl, it’s harder for her to get drunk, but when she does it is well worth the wait. Like an elephant trumpeting, her body will swing in several different directions, and if you are in her line of fire, there’s a chance you could lose your life.
Molly went over to divert the man’s attention, and this was what I overheard: “Oh my goodness, are all these cars here for flights?” She waved her hands around wildly, making one asinine observation after another about the air traffic control towers in South Africa as compared to the ones in Los Angeles.
After Sue took a hit off her cigarette, we realized we had the real cigarette and Molly had taken the marijuana cigarette. She was ten feet away and exhaling smoke into the man’s face while gesticulating like one of those guys with the glow sticks who direct planes where to park once they’ve landed.
Simone went over to Molly to retrieve the cigarette and had to struggle to get it out of her hands. Once she did, she glared at Molly and walked back over to us while taking a huge hit. “I’m too sober for this shit,” she exhaled.
We all shared the joint, then headed back into the airport, where Hannah bought some more souvenirs for her nephews—one clay elephant and one clay rhino. I mean, who really gives a shit? The rest of us went to our gate, where Rex revealed to us that he had brought each one of us extra ChapSticks.
“Oh, Rex!” we all cried and mounted him again. Our little plane had arrived and was loaded with ice and champagne. Things could not have gotten any better.
Camp Vurumba is located in the Okavango Delta. It was very different from Londolozai and Camp Dumbo, and in a great way. The camp was engulfed by the delta, which meant we had to drive through what was essentially a swamp, but it was exponentially more beautiful than a swamp and almost otherworldly. There were elephants and hippos in the distance sloshing through the water, and there were lily pads and papyri; everywhere.
Rex sat in the front of the jeep to bond with Z, who would be our guide in Botswana. Z was the best. He was happy and bald and had a great sense of humor—and he had only one wife, so I trusted him.
That’s Simone behind Rex and Hannah behind me, after shouting: “I don’t want to be in any pictures.”
We arrived at Vurumba at lunchtime, where the staff revealed to us that there was an open bar policy and we would be helping ourselves to our own drinks. They had gotten calls from both Londolozi and Camp Dumbo, and they were told that it was in everyone’s best interest for us to be overserved.
“Is that true?” Hannah asked, appalled.
“We’re like men,” I declared. “Gross Russian men who can’t even fit into regular clothes.”
“The only good thing about Russians is their salad dressing,” Hannah whispered to no one in particular.
“They give all the camps a VIP list,” Rex informed us, trying to allay our paranoia.
“Do you guys even get E! here?” Hannah inquired.
“I don’t know, I don’t watch much telly,” Rex replied. “But we knew we had a celebrity coming.”
“Are we worse than Russians?” I asked Z. “Be honest.”
“No, no, of course not,” he reassured us. “They just called and told us that all you ladies care about are lip balm and margaritas.”
“We also like champagne and Bloody Marys,” Sue corrected him.
“We all get a VIP list that describes the type of guest who is coming and what we can expect,” Rex explained.
“Did the list go something like this?” Sue asked in her singsong tone. “One VIP who needs a constant alcohol drip who travels with a power lesbian who also needs a constant alcohol drip. Both love to complain, but lesbian VIP complains more to make celebrity VIP look more reasonable.”
“It said there was a mixed group of affluent women who like to drink,” Z told us with a smile.
“Affluent?” Hannah asked.
“That’s a nice way of saying you have money,” Sue said, looking at me.
“Thanks for the hot tip, Sue, but why would they say ‘mixed’? It’s not like we’re multicultural, or… are they referring to Shelly’s lesbianism?”
“Your show is on the E! network,” Sue reminded me. “You’re sharing the spotlight with Coco, Ice T, and all the beautiful Kardashians. If that’s not multicultural, I don’t know what is.”
“I would call it more transcontinental,” Hannah weighed in, laughing at her own joke.
“Is it Ice T, or Iced T?” Molly asked.
“You’d have to ask Chelsea. Those are her brothers and sisters,” Sue told Molly. Then Sue grabbed both sides of my face and leaned her face close in to mine. “You’re an international-date-line crosser. Everyone knows you whether they want to or not.”
“I do love crossing date lines,” I pointed out. “You never know what time it’s going to be.”
The notion that someone had to read a bio to know about my disaffection for any room-temperature liquids, my allergy to any wheat-based products, or my lust for ice, vodka, and lemons, was embarrassing. I felt stupid, but not as stupid as I would feel later that night.
Hannah pointed out that I had a huge bug bite on my forehead. “Ugh, I hope that’s not malaria,” she said, pouring herself a glass of champagne and then sauntering over to the front of the main deck overlooking the delta. “This place is magnificent.”
Simone and Shelly both came over to check out my forehead. Once Simone saw Shelly tending to me, she decided to sit down and check out our new vista. Sue had already made herself comfortable.
I went behind the bar and made myself a vodka on the rocks with a splash of bug spray, thinking the bug spray would be more effective if it was ingested into my system rather than being applied topically, and with my amazing luck, might even work retroactively. “Can you guys imagine if we had been alive during Prohibition?”
“We’d all be shot at gunpoint,” Sue replied.
On the leg of this trip, we decided Molly and I would share a room, Hannah and Sue would stay together, and Simone and Shelly would pair up. Rex would crash wherever there was extra room, which was code for with me, while Molly got shafted to a sleeping bag in someone else’s room. She was the youngest, so it was the right thing to do. And this way she wouldn’t fall out of bed again, which she had done several times in the last week.
; Camp Vurumba was filled with true Africans. All the women were swathed in boldly printed African sarongs and three-foot-high head wraps. After taking in the scenery, we were prompted by Z to check into our villas, so that we could prepare for an afternoon ride to catch the sunset.
“I’m going to go to the gift shop,” Molly announced with a wink in my direction.
“Rex, do you want to come with me to check out my villa?”
I exaggerated the fact that I couldn’t carry any heavy bags because of my knee, and in his chivalrous way, he jumped to his feet to help me. My room was amazing and had a huge wraparound deck outside with unbelievable views overlooking the delta.
I went into my bathroom, changed my underwear, put the dirty pair into the safe, and locked it. If Rex was staying with me, I didn’t want him to see what I was capable of. Then we sat on the big bed that was facing the delta and opened a bottle of champagne and Rex filled up one of my ice packs for my knee. He told me how nice it was of us to invite him on this trip and that he was so relieved to be able to enjoy a safari without being in charge of one. I had my chest on his head, and we were both facing the water and watching the light, which was borderline hypnotic. It was our first official cuddle.
Neither Rex nor myself made a move. I thought it more practical to wait until that evening, anyway, so as not to cause a kerfuffle in the middle of the day by both of us reappearing for our afternoon ride in various stages of undress.
At least that was the way I saw it in hindsight. In reality, we were interrupted by a knock on the door, and it was Z telling us it was time to go.
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