“That’s not a bee…
That’s a pterodactyl.” – Josh Mehling
At
approximately 3:27 PM, a white bus pulled into Puerto Ayora. The driver
whistled slightly through his teeth and drummed his fingers on the steering
wheel. He glanced over his shoulder and looked around for the tour group he was
supposed to pick up. Sighing, he walked over to the back and eased the windows
open, to let the breeze cool the cabin. As he made his way to the front, a
large, black, winged creature flew into the back of the bus.
The driver
glanced at it, and shrugged.
No big deal.
Across the
corner, a group of tourists laughed, and licked ice cream. One person politely
asked for a coke, another for a bottle of water. One of the boys glanced at the
bus and raised a questioning eyebrow. “Is that our bus?” Another shrugged.
Sighing, the boy returned his gaze to his drink and took a swig.
The group
crossed the street without incident, the teacher ushering the kids and keeping
a wary eye out for traffic. Duncan, the leader of the group, pointed at the
bus.
“That one,” he said, his voice
lilting in a slight Spanish accent. “That’s our bus.”
The kids eagerly piled on, relieved
to be out of the sun for even a moment.
In the back
of the bus, the creature stirred, rattling its wings and then briefly settling
down. The large creatures were rocking the bus, and it raised a wary eye and
surveyed them. Large legs and bright colored feet moved swiftly across its
vision. As they piled on, the seat that the creature was sitting under sagged,
and squeaked loudly. The ground rumbled, and the creature shot up, wings
rattling.
In the back of the bus, someone screamed.
The
creature scanned the bus wildly, looking for a way to escape, its senses
stretched to the breaking point. It ducked and weaved, frantically looking for
a place to land, a place to escape. All around was chaos. Waving limbs shot
past it, and a baseball cap whizzed by. The creature buzzed in the air, and
ignored the screaming passengers of the bus. It was tired, and it needed a
place to rest.
As the back of the bus devolved
into chaos, a hero wearing a bucket hat heard the cries for help. “Ford!” they screamed “Fooorrd!” Whipping off his hat, the hero
placed a firm foot on the floor of the bus, and surveyed the area.
Ford Young
had arrived.
A brief explanation as to what
exactly a ‘Ford Young’ is:
As mentioned during a pre-Galapagos
meeting, Ford’s spirit animal is an eagle. When asked why, Ford responded, “Freedom. The eagle is all about freedom.” Ford himself has become a symbol
of freedom in an insect infested world, and is, as quoted by Jack Scofield. “A
grizzly bear that goes home to his family and loves them, who defends justice
and all that is right in the world.” Ford Young, is every pterodactyl’s nightmare.
Meanwhile on the back of the bus,
anarchy reigned. Hats flew in the air, tears were shed, and screams permeated
the air. In the front, the driver drummed his fingers and pretended that
whatever was happening in the back wasn’t actually happening.
Ford made his way through to the
back, carefully dodging flailing arms and screaming people. “What seems to be
the problem, folks?” he said, flashing a shining smile, and letting the breeze
wave his hat around a bit. Someone screamed something about a bee, and Ford
spotted the rouge insect perched on a window. Cupping a hand, he approached it
and prepared to make a lethal strike.
The insect
on the window never saw it coming. A hand, as big as the moon to the tiny
beast, came down on it and knocked it from its perch. Sending it tumbling,
senseless, to the ground. And there it lay. Ford had been careful enough to
only knock it out, rather than killing it, ever mindful of the conservation
lessons learned earlier in the week. The
back of the bus quieted, the beast quelled at last.
Five
minutes later, someone looked down, and said, “… It isn’t dead.”
And then
the screams erupted again.
- David L, Jack S, and Stephen S
 | ||
| A picture of the Beast vanquished by Ford (sketch by Thomson Brown) |
- David L, Jack S, and Stephen S
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