The Gorilla

Originally written September 15, 2015

I have always been afraid of apes and to a lesser extent monkeys. I have no idea why this is. Perhaps it is that they are too human-looking. As far as apes are concerned, they appear to me, for all intents and purposes, like huge, unrefined humans, untrustworthy and capable of great violence. In fact, I think the fact that they do look like humans makes it worse…something in me thinks they should somehow know better. Perhaps I am let down when I realize these human-like creatures are not human at all but instead wild animals to be feared as such.

Perhaps, too, it could have been the media of my youth. There was a short I remember seeing on Sesame Street or maybe Electric Company that involved a gorilla rushing at the camera, the purpose of which is lost to time. Having that ape charge at me, despite its being safely in TV-land, was too much, and I would usually run to hide behind my parents until it was over.

Perhaps, again, it could have been an episode of Wonder Woman wherein the Nazi’s train Gargantua the gorilla to destroy our heroine. Never mind that Gargantua was really a dude in a monkey suit, never mind that Wonder Woman befriended the beast, deprogrammed him and turned him good in the end – seeing that giant ape lunge at her was freaky.

Point being, I’m afraid of gorillas.

One April back in the early 2000s, my husband and I travelled to Minnesota to visit an old college friend of ours and her husband. We stayed in their home with them for almost a week and they delighted in taking us around the Twin Cities for personal tours as well as an excursion up the coast of Lake Superior for an overnight stay in a beautiful creekside cabin near Grand Marais. One of the things they showed us in St. Paul was the fabulous Como Park Zoo & Conservatory.

The Conservatory was special to them because it was where they had gotten married. We wandered around inside until we were ready to head into town for dinner, but at the last minute we decided to check out the zoo. It was getting late so we had to rush a little, and didn’t get to see everything, but no matter, we meandered and observed what we could of the extensive menagerie.

One of the final buildings we entered was the primate house. (This was before the Zoo’s refurbishment and new Gorilla Forest habitat opened.) Towards the back of the building was a small enclosure containing three, maybe four gorillas. The cell-like pen was walled off by panes of thick glass that reached to the ceiling. The big, angry looking males all stared at us as we came in. I immediately tensed up and I’m sure the whites of my eyes were what set him off, because before I knew what was happening, I was living my childhood nightmare.

Rounding the bend I noticed one of the panes of glass had been shattered, fractured in a feathered pattern and held together with duct tape. I pointed to the broken glass and turned to my husband, about to say “Um, is this safe?” when I saw a shadow move in my peripherals. Turning back I saw the largest of the gorillas was charging me and rammed, at full speed, the same shattered glass pane I was standing not six inches behind. I screamed and jumped about seventy feet in the air, and ran out of that primate house faster than you could say whatthefuck. We left immediately thereafter to drown our sorrows in a bottle of cherry vodka from Moscow on the Hill.

I hate gorillas.

I don’t care if they’re BFFs now, he’s still scary.

Pretty sure the look on his face means “I’m going to eat you.”