Take a step that is new......

They have places for tourists on elephants. Sanitary, stable ones. They have metal saddles for us, with safety bars, like on a ski lift. That's where they put us.

Unless they put you on the neck.

Aforementioned saddle taken by two fellow travelers, I was grunted (no English was spoken here - it was an elephant farm about an hour away from Chiang Mai) in the direction of this elephant's neck. The only consolation I had was that our driver (ele-cabbie?) was sitting on the thing's head. He was singing and carving a slingshot; seeing no difference, it would seem, between pachyderm and household chair.

As the elephant walked, I dug in to remain topside, survival instinct setting in. My legs clamped like an electric vise, and my hands clutched at the creased, hairy skin like it was trying to get away. It was heavy skin, like ancient Kevlar. The animal's ears flapped back and forth and smacked my legs, like an giant (and relatively ugly) grey-spotted butterfly. Every step moved me a little-- up and down, an extension of the muscles moving below.

We went up hills, we went down hills. Our driver seemed unconcerned about gravity, or the fact that this seemed like an odd place for arts and crafts. He just sang a Thai tune, and occasionally kicked and instructed the elephant. The one command sounded to me like "DeWitt! DeWitt!" So, I immediately thought of Janet from Three's Company (Joyce DeWitt), and then I thought how lucky Jack and Larry could get at the Regal Beagle if they had an actual elephant with them. No doubt Mr. Roper would intervene as wet-blanket curmudgeon, and Mrs. Roper would work in an elephant joke about their bedroom life. It would be zany.

We had bananas with us, so when the elephant wanted fed, he reached back over his head with his trunk. I delivered the goods, as the closest one to the trunk. It was a process that had to be efficient. I would stare down the double-barrel of his trunk, counting down. Sometimes we would get it to him in time, but when we didn't.....

Elephants blow their noses, too. Sometimes, when you don't feed them fast enough, elephants blow their nose in your face. It's not as quaint as you might think.