The Adventures of Me and Duluth

Episode 1

1996-97

Escape to the Klondike

In the days before he was known as Duluth, he was wasting away in a iron cage in San Diego, California, USA. God only knows how long he was stuck there, in the hot and arid climate that never agreed with him. It was quite cruel and unjust, but there wasn’t much he could do, and so he spent the days in an apathetic mood of ill-humor. Nobody seemed to care too much about his feelings, in fact most people didn’t really even notice, and just passed by his cage muttering, "damned lazy bear."

Then I came along. I believe that I’m the only one who has ever really understood Duluth – I’m not sure why. Maybe it’s because I’ve dreamed about having a pet polar bear ever since I can remember. People have always tried to tell me how dangerous polar bears are, and that it would be impossible to ever keep one as a pet. But, if the reader thinks about it, how many polar bears have the nay-sayers ever known well enough to make such a strong claim as that? When so cornered, all of the presentimentalists were eventually forced to admit that they had never actually known even a single one! Do these illogical fools expect I will just believe their unsupported assertions? But anyway, my sympathy for bears was never really noticed too much, excepting the one time I saw this movie where bears eat a bunch of people. So what if I was cheering a little bit too loudly for the bears – I still maintain that they had no right to kick me out of the theater.

Well, it was a particularly sweltering afternoon in late August when I first met Duluth. I had gone to the zoo with my sister and her kids, and it was my first time ever visiting a zoo. Most San Diego parents take their kids to the zoo at least once during their childhood, but ma never really wanted to go. She invariably said something about already working in a zoo every time we asked, although she never mentioned anything about any animals when she spoke of her job. Maybe that’s why ma was always in such a bad mood - it would kind of suck, working in a zoo with no animals.

So at the San Diego Zoo, I was amazed to find that there were many animals. The lady at the information desk said that they even had polar bears. I rushed over to the polar bears as my nieces and nephews dragged off my sister toward monkey island. The hot black asphalt seemed to squish a little bit under my feet as I ran, while I tried as best I could not to knock over too many of the stupid little kids that kept weaving all over the place just to look at a lot of boring animals.

The polar bear cage was right after the penguins. I was sweating profusely and out of breath by the time I got there, but I excitedly ran up to the bars of the cage and poked my foot into the lifeless, furry, and immense white shape which lay suffering on the ground against the steel bars. It didn’t move. I was appalled at its perilous condition and knew that only decisive action could save the poor beast. I ran to the nearest concession stand and bought a dozen ice cream bars. After consecutively feeding these to the overheated bear, the life seemed to surge back into him, and he lifted his head. I fully glimpsed his face for the first time. His nose was sort of shaped like Minnesota, and immediately I decided on his name. "Duluth," I said to the rejuvenated bear, "I’ve got to get you out of here, buddy. At nightfall—"

But Duluth cut me off with a bellicose growl. "Okay, okay, we move now," I said, "just as soon as I think of a plan." Somehow, it seemed wise to let the bear have his way. Inconspicuously, I made my way over to a zookeeper who happened to be cleaning out the iguana pens. I approached him from behind and stealthily slipped the key ring off his belt, just like daddy always taught me. The zookeeper continued his cleaning as I hurried back to Duluth before he realized something was missing.

Duluth was on his feet and eagerly pressed against the door of the cage when I returned. But first I had to deal with the security guard who was across from the penguins. He seemed to be scrutinizing this entire sector of the zoo and would be sure to notice the attempted escape. But I had a great idea… .

"Officer, officer," I cried, in a plaintive voice, "my son has fallen into the orca tank!" It was a very sick thing to do, I admit, but I had to save Duluth, so I didn’t fret about it. As the dutiful security guard rushed off to be a hero, the key clanked into the lock, the iron door swung open, and one huge polar bear sprang out, thanking me with a great big hug.

" !" I exclaimed, or I mean, I tried to say "You’re asphyxiating me!", but the tightness of his grip left me unable to utter a syllable. Duluth was so grateful that he nearly killed me, but finally he let go, and I was glad he did, for I was within a hare’s breath of suffocation. "There’s no time for emotion now," I told him at this point, "we’ve still got to get you of here."

As luck would have it, there was a zoo-emblemed pickup parked three cages down, and we bounded quickly over to it. The purloined key ring didn’t have that pesky ignition key, but, by tinkering with a few little wires, I was able to kick it over. Daddy would have been real proud.

The first thing I did was turn the AC up to maximum power to keep Duluth from wilting, and then we got onto one of the special "zoo vehicle only" trails and sneaked out through a side exit. We left there without knowing for certain our destination, but after a quick discussion with my new companion, we decided to vacate the roastingly oppressive climate of southern California in favor of the cooler, more tolerable environment of the Klondike. So I swerved the pickup around, and we headed for the airport.

It was rush hour, and the airport was kind of busy, but everybody gave me and Duluth a wide berth. A lot of people stared, while others appeared not to notice anything extraordinary. We booked tickets to Edmonton, with a stopover in Seattle – it was the best we could get on short notice. Duluth was so big that he took up both of our seats, and so I sat on his lap. The flight attendant said that was against FAA regulations, but when she produced the rulebook, Duluth ate it, and she was forced to acquiesce. Many of the passengers were reluctant to get on the plane, but eventually most of did. Duluth and I just looked out the window for most of the time, but near the end of the flight, Duluth began eyeing hungrily the young couple sitting one row ahead of us. I guess that tiny bag of peanuts didn’t quite tide him over.

We landed in Seattle before anything regrettable happened, but I knew that I had to find some food soon, or my companion might get us into some serious trouble. However we had only an hour before our next flight was to take off, certainly not enough time to find a restaurant in an unfamiliar city. The situation was desperate, but we were saved by an in-airport, all-u-can eat sushi bar. "That’s Seattle for you," I told Duluth, as we entered the place. He didn’t seem to get it, but then how would a polar bear understand about Seattle?

Anyway, the place reeked of fish, of course. It was by now a little bit after dinnertime, and so it was kind of quiet inside. I made sure I got in line ahead of the hungry polar bear, and after I filled my plate, I told Duluth to eat his fill. In about ten minutes, the buffet was cleaned out – I mean completely cleaned. You could have eaten off it… well never mind. The chef, who was at first astounded by the big white bear, became quite angry about the enormous quantity of food which my friend had consumed. He came out with his carving knife to chase us away. But far from being frightened, the towering bear let loose a deep growl at the poor chef, for he was still hungry, and our hosts had most inhospitably run out of food. The chef was so scared that he dropped his Bonzai 2000 and returned with more fish. Surprisingly, although he never learned English, Duluth always was a good negotiator.

A few moments later, a short, old Japanese man came to our table in tears. He introduced himself as the owner of the place, and stated that he would go bankrupt if we didn’t leave immediately. "C’mon Duluth," I said, "let’s go. Anyway, we’ve got our plane to catch." I didn’t want to put the poor man out on the street, even if Duluth could still have put away more fish. Now I haven’t been back since, but legend has it that there is a sign up there now specifying a new, increased price for polar bears. 

I hear most people think it’s a joke.

Anyhow, by this time, the plane was about to take off and we hurried to our terminal. As it was an international flight, all passengers were required to show their passports to the border authorities. Due to the spontaneity of our trip, I hadn’t even thought to bring mine. So I told Duluth to attempt to pass through, and I waited to sneak aboard the plane later.

"Let me see your passport," said the clerk at the counter to Duluth. The polar bear didn’t answer, and the man repeated the request a bit more vehemently. His boss, hearing the ado, came out from a back office.

"What seems to be the problem?" he asked.

"This bear doesn’t have a passport," the clerk responded.

"Polar bears don’t need passports," stated the boss emphatically, "passports are only for humans. I don’t think that polar bears are even eligible for passports, and furthermore, how could we realistically keep birds or fish or bears from crossing national borders? Did you consider that Jenkins?"

"Well no boss, but…"

"I’m sorry about the delay, people," said the boss to all the irate people who were held up in the growing line due to the incompetence of the clerk, "I’ve got everything under control." And so Duluth was allowed to pass.

Seeing the polar bear get safely on the plane, I knew it was time for me to make my move. I sneaked out from the airport building and made my way for the plane. Just then the luggage cart came zipping by and I had the presence of mind and quick reflexes to leap onto the last car. In need of disguise, I dumped the contents of the largest suitcase I could find over the side and then shut myself up inside. I felt the luggage carrier lurch to a halt and then felt myself being loaded up into the plane. It was a pretty dull plane ride, except for the fact that they had loaded me in upside down, and I fell asleep. When I awakened, I assumed I was on the luggage belt, for I felt myself going around and around in circles in the darkness. Although some of my closer friends have helpfully pointed out to me that such a situation would be indistinguishable from my usual circumstances, here I mean it in a literal sense.

Like all polar bears, Duluth has a wonderful sense of smell, and I guess he somehow found his way to baggage claim and scented me inside my concealing suitcase. So he quickly picked it up and made off with it, I guess, for I felt the suitcase being lifted up and carried away by a very powerful force. Moments later, as I extricated myself from the suitcase around the corner, I heard a woman’s voice in the distance screaming, "Help, help, that polar bear took my suitcase!" And then there was a man’s: "What have you been smoking?" I peeked around the corner and saw a policeman taking dragging away a sobbing and violently swinging woman. She seemed quite insane. Duluth and I thought it was pretty funny, and we started laughing really loudly, and rudely, even though we both felt kind of bad about it in a vague sort of way.

But we were in the clear, and we walked lightheartedly outside and into the falling snow, with our loud laughs of celebration. Duluth allowed me to climb up on his back now, for he felt strong and at home with his feet making tracks in the snow. And so we happily set out for the Klondike and prepared to settle down to the good life.

Please join us again for Episode 2 of the continuing adventures of me and Duluth, if I ever get around to writing about them.