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The very thought of putting my shoulder to the task of getting us unstuck was almost
more than I could bear but I smiled gamely.
“Let's try to find some boards or something that'll give us leverage,” I suggested.
I hoisted myself slowly out of the car and began teetering along the beach, concentrat-
ing for all I was worth on not fainting. Michael came up alongside and took my elbow.
This made me feel somewhat pathetic, though after a while I decided to enjoy the mo-
ment. The secret to being a good invalid, after all, is surrendering wholeheartedly to your
illness (so long as it has been satisfactorily diagnosed as benign), having a good wallow
in self-pity, and then allowing your unfortunate companion to do absolutely everything but
breathe for you.
Such was my happy state of mind when we encountered The Iguana. First of all, let me
say that this wasn't my first iguana sighting. Once, when I was walking along 15th Street
in Washington, I'd come upon a bright green two-foot-long lizard languishing on the side-
walk as its hysterical owner rushed out of her apartment.
“Help me find my iguana!” she'd screeched
I'd pointed at the dead-looking creature and fled.
But that puny little thing was a mere gecko compared to the tongue-slithering five-feet-
long dragon standing before us now.
Huge.
Prehistoric looking.
And no more than a couple of yards away.
An image popped into my head of diminutive Japanese businessmen shrieking in terror
as they fled down a Tokyo street.
Michael was the first to speak.
“I've always heard they're not dangerous unless they're provoked.”
Although this was vaguely comforting on an academic level, I wasn't sure what the av-
erage iguana considered provocative.
Pink polo shirts? (I was sporting one.)
Flip flops? (Check.)
Also, it's well known that true predators go for weak prey and I'd never felt more feeble
in my life.
“If he charges I won't be able to fight back. But save yourself,” I said in my best
Christian-martyr voice, only half-joking.
To his credit Michael didn't laugh—well, not much.
Instead he reached for my sweaty hand and led me slowly but firmly back to the car,
which he got unstuck in no time.
I felt marginally better the next morning. After taking a cautious inventory of my vari-
ous organs I even decided to tear up the detailed instructions I'd written the night before
regarding the disposal of my remains. Michael made coffee but I couldn't drink it.
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