Rats! I did it again.
I’ve returned from New Orleans and Louisiana with many fond memories. One of the best is the man who drove our airboat on our bayou tour. Brad was quite a character and a big surprise.
When I was a kid, I loved a television show called, The Everglades, which ran in 1961 and 1962 and was a crime fighting series set in the Florida Everglades. Burt Reynolds even made some appearances in the action-packed series.
I thought riding across the water at fifty or sixty miles an hour through swamp grass had to be exciting. Ever since those days, I’ve wanted to ride one of these loud, fast boats. Well, I finally did, and it was everything I had hoped it would be.
Our home location for the trip was in the middle of nowhere, surrounded by murky water, Cyprus trees, and Spanish moss. Airboats of various sizes graced the docks, and the ticket counter and souvenir store were housed in typical bayou “shacks.” The scene was just how I had imagined all these years. Then we met our driver, Brad.
For some reason, I automatically assumed Brad would be a Louisiana “redneck” who talked with an accent barely discernable and loved a good Budweiser. I was partly correct, but as is often the case, my stereotype was inaccurate. Why do we make judgments about people without knowing them?
New Yorkers are rude. People with a Southern drawl are less than average intelligence. Cajuns are all ornery. Californians are all ultra-left-wing liberals. Folks in Washington state like trees better than people. Southerners all move at a snail’s pace. The list could continue ad infinitum.
I was not utterly mistaken about our Cajun operator, and he would proudly affirm some of my preconceptions about him. He directed us to the small boat and loaded us up. Brad stayed on the dock and knelt next to us. He was a stout, muscular fellow in his mid-fifties with balding white hair, a full beard, tanned skin, and wrap-around dark sunglasses. He wore camo Crocs and a camo t-shirt.
Boating directions were given to us in no uncertain terms, peppered with various swear words in an accent unique to any I’ve ever heard. Brad was obviously a smart-ass, cracking one sarcastic joke after another, which had the whole boat laughing and feeling more at ease about our upcoming adventure. After uttering several choice expletives, he paused, then continued to tell us that he would indeed be talking with ample cussing and that if anyone did not like it, they could exit the craft post-haste. He then instructed us not to get on Facebook and whine about him since he could and would hunt us down. I liked this guy already!
Instructions included how to wear the headphone sound suppressors and exactly where to place them when not in use. He told us to have nothing in our hands and showed us where to place any loose items. One poor lady in front of us tried to hold on to her jacket, and he proceeded to banter with her while kindly stating, “Put that damn thing under the seat where I’m telling you.” All directives were well-founded because when this thing cranks up, any items not secure will become food for the alligators. There were plenty of alligators to enjoy a buffet of tourists’ lost items or tourists themselves.
After a few minutes ride at around fifty miles an hour, we arrived at a canal where the boat slowed to a crawl, headphones were removed, and class time began. The narrow waterway was adorned with trees shrouded in Spanish moss, making for a stunning picture. After several hundred yards, we stopped, where I met my new girlfriend. She was swimming happily in the murky water, and we were told her name was “Ali,” with the surname “Gator.” We knew this beautiful creature and Brad were good friends since Ali immediately swam towards the boat to say hello. Brad talked to her as a dog owner conversed with their loved pet, then out came a big bag of marshmallows which found their way to the water to be devoured by this happy creature. It was obvious that Ali bellied up to this buffet often.
The boat crew were busy taking photos when Brad reached over to pet the Gator, who enjoyed the attention. All the while, our teacher explained alligator facts that none of us knew. Gators are not aggressive animals and will only attack a person or animal if they get too close to their nest, which contains around forty eggs. Only two or three of the mass of alligator children will live to adulthood. People sometimes confuse alligators with crocodiles which are very aggressive predators.
Brad was clearly a very knowledgeable and intelligent person who loved this territory he called home. He invited our side of the boat to pet Ali, but no one except me took him up on the offer. I figure I possess ten fingers and could probably live without a couple of them, so why not. Not every day one gets up close and personal with a ten-foot swamp monster. I reached down and patted Ali, which caused her to recoil just a bit. Brad exclaimed, “Don’t smack her, ya’ dummy; pet her. Don be smackin on my gator!” Geez, I was just trying to be nice, but I had no desire to tangle with either Ali or Brad, so I proceeded carefully, never straying from his decrees. Chalk up a new experience for Don Mark; I just petted a wild alligator! There should be some kind of award for this, right? I know that some of you are thinking, “Yes, there should be recognition, and it would be idiot of the year.”
Our lessons continued as our leader explained that we were on a manmade canal, not a bayou. These canals were cleared to harvest the Cyprus trees, which almost became extinct. When they were cut, loggers did not know it takes thirty to forty years for a Cyprus to mature, but they will continue to grow for hundreds of years because they are part of the Sequoia tree family.
At one point, the operator stopped the boat in the middle of the marshland. He explained in detail what happens when a hurricane moves across the swamp and how Ida had decimated much of the grass flotillas. This means another storm can race across the area, causing even more damage. Meanwhile, Brad explained a bit of his history after telling us that the last storm destroyed his home. He got out with only his dog and his son, and now the only remaining parts of his house were the steel pylons driven into the swamp floor. This guy has seen some stuff!
One rider asked about his personal life, and Brad was happy to accommodate. That is when I quietly became embarrassed. This Cajun was born about a mile from our location, and his father and family lived there for generations, and their love for these glades runs deep. Far from being an uneducated “redneck,” our host has an engineering degree from Baylor. He’s lived all over the world and was one of the highest-rated bare-fisted boxers in the world. His son, who lives in Singapore, is also one of the top feather-weight fighters in the world. Brad knows the science and history beneath these waters and returned from his successful career to help his father.
Brad’s father was on a quest to save the alligators, which had been hunted to near extinction, so the son joined his dad in this noble endeavor. This family has restored the alligator population for both the commercial and naturalists, making these ancient creatures once again thrive.
As the class continued, I realized I had once again stereotyped someone and made myself the fool. This fellow has more brains, worldly wisdom, and experience in his big toe than my 250-pound body! Lesson learned – for the umpteenth time.
Lord, help us to view people through Your eyes. It seems no coincidence that Jesus constantly used a stereotyped, often despised culture – the Samaritans – as His prime examples of how a person should think and behave. He stood in amazement at a Roman commander who possessed more faith and understanding than all the people of His tribe. He recognized and acknowledged the “real” personhood of prostitutes and tax collectors.
By the way, Cajuns originated in western France but migrated to Acadia, Nova Scotia, where they were expert fishermen and farmers. When the British took over, they were expected to swear allegiance to the British crown, which they refused. The Brits shipped them to various places in the world, but many eventually settled in the rural areas of Louisiana, where their fishing and farming expertise thrived. Acadia eventually morphed into “Cajun.” They became known for their unique food, music, and ability to adapt. And one of them graduated from Baylor University in Texas and lived throughout the world, but finally found his way home to the bayou. I’m glad he did.
Live Inspired!
Don Mark
