Aug 2, 2013 3 min read

I went hiking the other day. Along the way, I found a turtle trying to cross the road. Yes, I know it is beginning to sound like the start of a joke, but it’s a true story.

A lot of people were zipping by on bicycles and I feared for the turtle’s life. He may have been older than me, but he didn’t know to look both ways before he crossed and he was crossing slowly. So slowly. Like a turtle would. As the cyclists sped by, I was standing on the trail going, “Turtle! Watch out for the turtle.” I am under the impression that some people thought I was pointing at my pants, because I got a lot of funny looks.

I wasn’t going to pick him up and move him because I wasn’t sure if he was going to bite me. I don’t even know if he had teeth. Also, I didn’t know if he carried any sort of turtle disease. And it was just sort of icky and slimy. I love animals, but I don’t like touching them.

Thinking about my encounter with Mr. Turtle reminded me with an encounter with another reptile in Florida.

A few years ago, I was in Orlando visiting my friend Heidi. She lived in Celebration then. Celebration, for those of you who have been recently thawed out from Paleolithic era, is a community that Disney built, a picturesque suburbia. It looked like the backlot of “Desperate Housewives.” There’s even a Wisteria Lane!

Heidi and I got up one morning and biked to breakfast, about three miles away; an easy trail through an idyllic neighborhood. The town center, aptly named Town Center, wrapped around a manmade lake, Lake Evalyn.

It was such a pretty ride, until we got to the lake. There was an alligator sitting in the middle of it. His head popped up, and, for a brief minute, I thought he was an Animatronic alligator. I came to a complete stop (the sensible thing to do would be to keep pedaling). I said to Heidi, “Hey, is that an alligator right there?!”

I almost wish I didn’t ask because I wasn’t going to like the answer. Heidi said, “Yes. He’s here all the time.”

I panicked. And blurted out, “What do we do? Do we have to go around?”

She said, bravely (in my opinion), “Just keep going. He’s far enough away.”

I feared that Heidi didn’t know that much about alligators. I had heard (incorrectly) that alligators could move up to 35 miles per hour. Actually, it’s more like 10. That’s still faster than I can bike. He wasn’t that far away, but I was convinced I was in dining distance. I am pretty sure he was looking at me like I was a four-color photo on an Eat ‘n Park menu.

I started pedaling, faster than normal. Getting away from a creature that is almost all teeth is very motivating. Who needs performance-enhancing drugs? I could have done the Tour De France that day!

I learned that Heidi biked past him almost daily. He and a few of his green friends hung out in that lake. No, thank you.

When I start complaining about the cold, please remind me about this terrifying morning in Orlando.

If I’m going to run into reptiles when I am biking or walking, I’ll take turtle over alligator any day.