A Naked Woman, A Gila, and Desiccation

Rising early in the morning is an old habit picked up in prison. This morning, I woke up at 4:30 in my own bed with my wife sleeping soundly beside me. One of Mary’s breasts was clear of the covers, but when I touched the nipple she failed to respond. I lapped the drool off the side of her face, but she continued to snooze. The tea I gave her before going to bed may have had a touch too much Ambien.

My right foot was stuck to the sheet, and there was a damp sock under my pillow. I yanked my foot loose from the sheet, and sat up on the side of the bed while being careful not to drag my penis on the floor. I eased the covers off my wife in order to check for scorpions. After performing a semi-cavity check, she seemed clear of critters so I tossed the sheet back over her.

Entering the bathroom, I quickly washed my necessary areas and got dressed. Stuffing my backpack with Gatorade and granola bars, I prepared to go on a solitary hike.

When hiking by myself, I drive south of Tucson to some of the more remote trails east of Nogales. Once in a while, you will run into folks sneaking across the border to enter the United States, but usually it’s at night. A hungry woman will perform amazing sexual feats for a granola bar, but getting sand out of crevices takes some real expertise. They seem to really like the bars with yogurt on the bottom.

The temperature for the past three days has risen above 103 in the afternoon. When I arrive at the trail it’s 80 degrees, and there isn’t a cloud in the sky. Now that it’s getting close to summer, the snakes and other reptiles are out in greater numbers. It isn’t like going to the zoo and seeing them in a glass cage. This is real, and I love it.

About one mile down the trail, I discovered a deer leg gnawed to the bone. Something was hunting in this canyon last night, and I felt sorry for the deer until I realized that some of us need to eat, and others need to be eaten.

After four miles of trudging through the canyon, I was rewarded with vistas that take my breath away no matter how many times I see them.

I observed movement in the brush ahead of me, and as I approached the spot, a Gila monster waddled out from the buffle grass. It was about 12 inches long, and one of the most beautiful creatures I have ever seen. The orange and black speckled pattern left me in awe of God’s creation.

The Gila was hesitant at first about crossing the trail, but when I remained very still, the beast walked right in front of my feet and entered the brush on the opposite side. I have never felt more at peace with myself, and I swear you could sense the presence of God in the desert this morning.

As I was embracing the fullness of the experience, the Gila wandered back onto the trail, and once again began to cross in front of me. I calmly placed my steel toed boot on top of its head, and crushed it to death. My patience is limited.

I decided to take another trail on my return trip, and was annoyed to find a ragged yellow shirt caught in the center of a prickly pear cactus. Littering destroys the beauty of a natural habitat. I carefully pulled the shirt from the cactus, and placed it in my backpack to be disposed of later. Drinking some Gatorade seemed to diminish my anger over having to take care of other people’s trash.

Another hundred yards and I came upon what at first appeared to be a deer, but they don’t wear pants. A human body was stretched out face down on the ground, and there was no doubt that the person was dead. Undocumented immigrants are often found deceased in the desert of southern Arizona, sometimes in groups or often by themselves. If people are willing to die in order to get to this country, the United States can’t be as bad as some people portray. Maybe they come for the ice cream.

The body appeared to be that of a middle aged male. Before this fellow entered the desert on foot, he should have had a well planned exit strategy. Most likely, the guy died of dehydration. I quickly drank some more Gatorade.

Dehydration in the desert can be a fairly rapid process. Symptoms become more severe, the greater the water loss. No fluids going into your body, and sweat coming out is not a good combination. When you cease sweating it would be an excellent time to get your affairs in order.

At around 5% water loss you may become sleepy. This is not a good time to take a nap. You might also get an Excedrin headache or become nauseous. Vomiting in the desert provides a nutritional supplement for some of the wildlife.

10% fluid loss and your muscles can spasm, but not in an orgasmic kind of way. Your vision can fail or dim, and urination if possible can be painful. It’s similar to having the clap, but you are thirsty.

Fluid losses of more than 15% means kiss your ass goodbye time.

I can assume my undocumented friend from Mexico was delirious as his dehydration became severe, and it caused him to throw off his shirt which I found in the cactus. I removed the shirt from my pack, and placed it respectfully over his shoulders. The sun out here can be brutal. Sometimes the immigrants will be carrying drugs so I gingerly checked his pants pockets, but there was nothing of interest.

The process of desiccation had already begun, and moisture from the body had seeped into the soil leaving a dark halo around it. The gentleman was face down with his left arm trapped beneath him, and his right arm stretched out above his head. His right hand was frozen into a claw clutching the cracked earth as if he was trying to dig his way out.

The sand under the body was probably moist enough for good packing, and I considered making a sand castle, but figured it might be perceived by authorities as inappropriate. Besides, I had no desire to turn the body over and see what was left of his face.

You are probably thinking while reading this that the poor traveler died alone. News flash. Everybody dies alone. You can have a room full of friends and relatives sitting by your death bed waiting for the Grim Reaper’s arrival, but unless they have made a mass suicide pact you are still going to die alone. You can have plenty of company while waiting to die, but when that magical moment comes, you are taking the trip by yourself.

After calling the border patrol to notify them about the location of the body, I continued my trek back to the car. It’s afternoon by the time I reach my vehicle, and I’m starting to get hungry. I have remembered to stay hydrated. After a quick stop at Gastro’s in Rio Rico for some tacos, I’m on my way home.

Mary is awake when I get home, and she wastes no time questioning me about where I’ve been. She’s a good interrogator. I tell her about my hike without mentioning the dead body. Our marriage is based upon trust, not on shared information.

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