was lying on my back, in a cabin, in a rainforest, on the Osa
Peninsula of Costa Rica. It was 3:15 am.
There was nothing
dry anywhere in my cabin. Nothing. " Urg," I said
out loud as I removed a three inch cockroach from my lower
lip. Never mind the mosquito net, it easily climbed through
the hole in the foam mattress and right into my supposedly
secure sleeping enclosure.
Yea right. I had to almost laugh
at even having a mosquito net dangling over my head. Plus,
I had kicked it and tore it off the posts twice already.
wouldn't the bugs like my bed?, after all it was soaked in
salty sweat and about 100 types of tree saps. Not to mention
the particles of plants all over my skin, and um, um, all the
human fluids formerly deposited on my gray/black mattress that
just really, really, wasn't a mattress anymore.
have sweated anymore, at least I thought I couldn't. Because
about that time my body again swelled up and I felt the fluids
dripping off of my chest and off of my stomach and on to the
sheet. I had to keep soaking up the sweat in my belly button
with my T-shirt.
"Bring cotton sheets, light cotton," Mike
Boston had told me. Yea right, they really help.
I saw my wife
open her eyes and look at me, "Are you okay?," she
"Yes," I replied. "Can humans die from
sweat, I mean, not from sweating, but from being IN sweat?"
It's just wonderful lying on soaking wet cotton
sheets on top of a hazardous waste platform. Just wonderful.
What were the alternatives? Sleeping among some three horned
Katydids and baby fer-de-lances with the possibility of getting
crapped on by kinkajous?
Hum. I tried to get into a deep sleep
but it proved fruitless. I heard someone cut a huge fart in
the room next door, and then, I heard the splash of water.
Someone had midnight diarrhea. And the bathroom was nearby.
It began to smell like a porta-potty at a NFL game. But then
another fart came from another direction.
Man, were the howler
monkey's farting? I shouldn't have mentioned howler monkeys
to my own mind's eye... cause it was getting to be 3:30 am,
and they were about to start. I rarely slept through the howler
monkey cacophony. But it was just a bit better, then hearing
some farts and splashing water.
I couldn't wait to get up and
change into my other smelly wet T-shirt. We were going to hike
up the Claro River this day, to find dart frogs. Was I among
the border line insane I wondered? I immediately thought that
if I had some Xanax on me down here I could have slept right
through the night, and probably have had cockroaches in my
nostrils, or at the very least a land planaria boring through
my urethra into my bladder. But, I also thought that it wouldn't
be fun hiking in the morning with a benzodiazapam hangover.
Just not cool.
I had to notice the tree vipers, and I had to
have the power to yell at Dave when he made everyone wait on
the path for the 30th time while he tried to get the perfect
I love this place. Really. Crap, I let out my own,
huge, loud fart. I heard someone giggle down the hall.
this little humourous anectdote about his night at
Sirena Station in
Corcovado National Park