Alligators Can Bite Me!

I get asked to tell this story all the time and now after years of therapy I think I’m ready.
 
I hate reptiles of any kind.  Period.  I have seen things in this world that would curl your hair and have been knee deep in things that would turn an iron stomach to jello.  Mostly thanks to Uncle Sam but that’s a story for another time.  There really is only a couple of things that get under my skin and one of them is reptiles.  It’s something about there smell combined with the way them move that gets me squealing like a bus load of 12yr old girls at a Justin Bieber concert.  Honestly if it was just a bit of squealing I could probably play it off but when you combine it with the uncontrollable shaking, blubbering and flat out crying, there really is no way to save cool points after that.  That all leads me back to my original statement “I hate reptiles of any kind.”

The year was 1999 and I was working for a company that sent photographers out to take 360 degree photos of travel destinations throughout the U.S.  Allow me to digress for just a minute…I grew up in the fairly liberal environmennt of California.  Through no fault of my own I was transplanted to the almost cartoonly absurd conservative environment of Burkburnett Texas to complete 4 years of high school.   The only way out of the south was to join the military…which I did.  Where did Uncle Sam station this ocean ready sailor?  Bulloxi Mississippi!  Right back to the south.  After the military I took a job with the company I mentioned earlier.  My assigned section of the USA….The fracken south!!!!!! 
 
It wasnt all bad.  Florida just happens to be in the south.  This company flew me into Miami handed me a shot list, a credit card and a rental car and said we’ll see you in a few months.  For a kid of 24 this was an assignment of a lifetime.  For about a month I was living the dream.  Spring break in Ft Lauderdale.  Spring training with the Red Socks and the Yankies, Ziggy Marley in Miami it was all good until….
 
With all the east coast of Florida travel destinations in the bag it was time to hit the west coast and grab some images.  The only thing between me and yet another set of golden beaches.  The Florida Everglades.  Home to some of the worlds rarest birds and of course….friggen alligators!!  My first assignment was to hop on a fan boat and bring back some pictures of….Friggen  Alligators!!!  Well as I pulled into the fan boat docks wouldn’t you know it I was late (teehee) and literally missed the boat( again with the teehee).  I called the home office and explained what happened and was told in no uncertain terms that I was not to come home without a picture of a friggen alligator.  At this point the only thing that could ever override my fear of alligators was the fear of losing this coosh assignment.  So as I traveled down highway 75 through the Everglades I began looking for locations where I could grab a shot of the nasty bastards and get the heck back to a beach where you only have to worry about the over tanned cougars .    

The answer to my problem came in the form of boardwalks that are placed all along highway 75 for the purpose of allowing people to venture into the Everglades without getting wet.  I quickly pulled over, grabbed my camera and began to venture into the Everglades.  What they don’t mention on the signs that are placed just off the boardwalk is that the further you go into the Everglades the darker it gets.  There is a canopy of trees blocking most off the sunlight making 12 noon look like 12 midnight.  At this point I’m 1/2 mile in and the lack of light is starting to creep me out.  But hey my job is on the line so I decide to get moving.  A few minutes later as I’m walking briskly into the swamp my zippo cigarette lighter works it’s way out of my cargo shorts pocket and the momentum of my legs launches it swiftly into the swamp creating a huge splash.   At that point it was like someone switched on a supercharged hot tube as the swap erupted with the sound of all the wildlife reacting to the splash made by my cigarette lighting.  So there I was very much alone in a dark swamp surrounded by gators and god know what else and no one had a clue I was even there.

At that point my butt decided to run and all my body could do was try and catch up.  From somewhere deep inside me there was guttural noise escaping that could only be described as a high volume vocal spasm that sounded very much like  a sheep caught in a hyper active washing machine.  Baaaayahyahyahyah!!!!!  My legs were burning with a combination of lactic acid and adrenaline.  My lungs were on fire and my brain was busy conjuring up images of a very fat gator with camera and my arm caught in his teeth.  Thankfully I made it back to the end of the boardwalk and jumped into the rental car and sped off toward the west coast. Every mile or two I’d get a huge case of the willies and the car would swerve uncontrollably but eventuallyI made it to a phone and called the home office.  I was determined to tell them where they could stick their photo of an alligator.  Just then I saw a sign for a national park complete with park rangers and most importantly other tourists that could serves as witnesses should something go horribly wrong.  As they say there is safety in numbers as long as that number isn’t 1.  I decided to try my hand at photographing alligators one more time.  If this didn’t work the folks back at the home office could kiss my lily white butt or better yet come out and get their own damn picture. 
 
As I arrived at the national park I saw a group of tourists standing in a circle around a baby alligator.  I thought to myself “no one said it had to be an adult alligator”  smiling at my creative thinking I grabbed my camera and joined the group of onlookers.  It was a perfect solution to an imperfect situation and I took full advantage of it snapping images from just about every angle imaginable.  Meanwhile the baby alligator just stood their mouth open,enjoying the sun and ignoring the onlookers.  I was saved!  I now had a full memory card (a whooping 96 megs) of alligator pictures and I was now free to get back to beaches.  But like any good photographer I knew I should review the images before I left the location…just in case.  As it turned out you could hardly see the little guy in the pictures.  In most of the pictures I was too far away from the subject.  The rest of the images were ruined by logos on the onlookers t shirts.  One well placed Old Navy logo can kill you entire shoot and have you scheduling a re-shoot.  I was not coming back so the only thing do do was get close enough to the baby alligator that I could blur out all the distracting elements in the image making the gator the star of the picture.  With my hands shaking and a bead of sweat starting to form on my brow I began inching my way closer and closer to the gator.  My first picture…blurry because of my shaking hands.  Second picture… better but not close enough.  On the third picture I grabbed a shot that was really kind of cute.  This little guy was sort of smiling at me and I really felt as if perhaps I finally connected with my subject.  The next series of shots came easy as my confidence began building.  All the while my new friend just sat basking in the sun and smiling back at my camera.  With every shot I got closer and closer to my subject and I began bagging some terrific shots.  I must have gotten too close because out of the blue this once cute smiling member of the cuddly club sprang to life and snapped at the camera.  In shock I jerked away, lost my balance and fell flat on my butt in front of the alligator with my legs spread wide open.  Imagine drawing an arrow.  My legs formed the point with the alligator forming the stick in the middle.  All I could see from my seated position was a giant row of teeth charging up the middle of my legs intent on sinking his teeth into my….um…swimsuit area? 
 
Now I am not sure which president actually decided to add the crab-walk to the presidential fitness test we all take as school children, but  at that point I would have kissed that president square on his wrinkled man lips.  I began to crab-walk backwards away from Mr. Toothy with all the speed and skill of a well practiced Olympic athlete.  Thank you Mr. President!!!  Inside I felt like Mr. Universe but apparently on the outside it was a different story.  The onlookers were all laughing so hard they forgot that I was being attacked by a fracken alligator!!!  It just goes to show you that you can always depend on the kindness of strangers… unless of course you’re violently crab walking backward to keep a tiny gator from biting off your junk.  At that point it’s apparently acceptable to point and laugh.  Eventually someone came to their senses and headed off my reptillian friend Capt. Vasectomy and I was able to scurry to safety. 
 
Now anytime you have a traumatic event happen you suppose to identify what that experience had to teach you.  Here is what I learned:
 
Tears and snot bubbles do not repel alligators.
 
 

Thank you,

Daniel Troutman