Monkey see, monkey do, monkey eat your face off

My last day in Hong Kong started pleasantly enough.

Sonya and I woke up, spooned, had some breakfast and made plans for the day.

As a final activity, Sonya suggested this place called Monkey Hill where macaque monkeys go to see and be seen without boundaries or fences stifling their individuality.  It sounded like fun.

I mean, monkeys are cute and whimsical, right?  What's not to like?

We arrived at the park and soon realized it was less of a Monkey Starbucks where the macaques go to socialize and write poetry and more of a five mile hike in a forest.

At the beginning of the trail was a sign instructing us how to prevent a Monkey Attack.  Most of it was self-explanatory stuff telling us not to feed the monkeys or have food at all, not to tease the monkeys, not to use flash photography and not to look them directly in the eye.

Oh, foreshadowing...

We walked for about an hour, coming across two or three monkeys that mostly ignored us from the trees.  We assumed it was Monkey Nap-time and went about our business.

Once we'd walked for a little while, we decided we should head back.

But first, we decided to take a picture on the Monkey Altar.

This is where things started to get uncivilized.

As we made our way back, we noticed more and more monkeys collecting on the trail and up in the trees.  Suddenly, it seemed like they were everywhere.

I was getting nervous, but reminded myself that they're used to people and shouldn't be that interested in either of us as we didn't have food and weren't challenging them to a dance-off.

The trail, I should mention, was rather narrow and Sonya and I had to walk single file.  So, when a monkey was sitting smack in the middle of the trail, it was almost impossible to go around it without basically stepping over it.

And that's exactly what happened.

As we walked, two monkeys had set up shop in the center of the trail.  I looked behind us and saw a few more coming down the way.

"Sonya!" I hissed.  "They know we desecrated the Monkey Altar!   It's a trap!"

At this point, I think we were both on Monkey Alert.

We were stationary for a few minutes, trying to look nonchalant while hoping the two blocking the trail would become inspired and head off to work on their respective novels.

No such luck.

As I was in front, Sonya suggested I climb over a giant rock on the side of the trail to somewhat bypass the two blocking our escape.

As calmly and quickly as I could, I took her advice and successfully moved beyond Monkey Impasse.  I thought Sonya was behind me but soon learned she had not been as lucky.

I looked back and saw that she was sandwiched between the rock and 3 monkeys who had cornered her.  One was particularly interested in her and slowly started moving toward her.

Sonya was completely frozen.

I was probably 20 feet away and completely paralyzed.  I was desperately trying to dig deep into the recesses of my National Geographic and Animal Planet education to think of anything I could use to help her.

The same monkey was completely fixated on her, just staring at her.  All of a sudden, it made an awful noise that the internet calls a grunt.

And all I could think to say was, "Don't look at it!"

It opened its mouth, baring its teeth and actually faked a lunge.

Sonya ran.  I ran.

We ran out of that awful place, praying to the Monkey Gods that they weren't following us to make us pay for desecrating the Monkey Altar with flash photography.

Poor Sonya has a brand new phobia and I have reinforced my pre-existing idea that I DO NOT BELONG IN NATURE.

As it turns out, the deck was stacked against us from the beginning:

• Monkeys don't like water bottles, sunglasses or jewelry because they're shiny (we had all of these)
• Monkeys don't like backpacks or large bags because they know it's where we tend to keep the food
• Monkeys are far more likely to attack women and children than men
• Monkeys are made from mayonnaise and evil

Thank God they weren't packing heat.


**I'm removing the ability to post anonymously because I'm sick of spam.  I would like to apologize to Bruce Wayne and Peter Parker.  It's not me, it's you.