What’s Your Monkey Story?

Recently I got a chance to visit my folks in Dallas. One of our favorite activities is sitting around the kitchen table, stuffing our faces and swapping lies. My brother, who inherited the oral storytelling gene from my dad, somehow got off on a tangent and said, "Hey, let me tell you my monkey story". We are close in age as well as filial affection. We share similar temperaments, senses of humor, human frailties, musical tastes, and a love of Tex Mex. I have known him since the day he was born, but I had never heard his 'monkey story'.

It seems he was out at some snooty Dallas eatery in the 80s, where all the men's collars were popped and the ladies' hair was big. One couple brought their pet spider monkey with them for lunch out on the patio. Apparently the monkey found a wad of gum stuck underneath their table, amused himself with it for a while, then rinsed his tiny monkey paws in everyone's iced tea. They were so busy looking cool, they didn't notice, and enjoyed their tea just like everyone else.

This story got a few laughs around our table. And as often happens, one story leads to another. Turns out my brother had another monkey story, about the time he visited the local zoo on a field trip for a high school photography class and was selected to hold an orangutan while everyone else took photos.

Huh. Another monkey story I had never heard. And what I wouldn't give to have a copy of one of those photos!

But wait - there's more. There was that time he and his husband Peter were on vacay in Africa (well, ONE of the times