by Demi Pietchell

Let me level with you for a moment – I’m one of these people who do not have your run of the mill fears like heights, swimming, and the dark; my fears are advanced, irrationally ridiculous, and often challenging for others to understand. The things I fear the most have been polished and honed by the rock tumbler-like paranoia engine of my mind into what can only be classified as Seinfeld-caliber neuroses.

As a child, I grew up around the block from Lion Country Safari. But I chose not to go.

You’re probably thinking, “Why? Doesn’t every kid want to drive through four miles of wilderness to get up close and personal with exotic animals? And how cool is that to live so close by that you could go all the time? What a lucky kid!” Ordinarily, you’d be absolutely right – my friends loved to go to Lion Country Safari to visit the treasure trove of uncommon animals, even if they were driving in from other parts of the state specifically to check out the park. And they often extended invitations to me to join them even though I would decline each time, blaming my choice not to attend on thinly veiled, irrelevant excuses like my dislike of sunburns, the excessive Florida heat, or maybe a convenient but terrible case of hypochondria. Luckily, my friends never pressed the issue – they just thought I was being a little diva. In other scenarios, this was likely a valid perception.

Knowing you are probably thinking these things as well, I’m trying to find a way to put this so as not to offend… but I was terrified of the very idea of the theme park safari. Granted, I was terribly precocious, but even as a child, I was having prophetic visions of how a rhino might mistake my vehicle for another animal… and fall in love with it in ways I would never understand.

The thought of being trapped inside an ordinary vehicle during this heartfelt romantic expression by a beast built like a battle tank was too much for my little brain to handle. So I opted out, carrying this traumatic fear part and parcel into my adulthood.

You’re already laughing at me. Go ahead. You have my permission.

Now here’s the clincher – I’m also the type of person who gravitates toward situations in which I am faced with conquering my bizarre, irrational fears in decidedly over-the-top, ill-advised ways. So when Tracy Tilson and Britt Monroe of Tilson PR invited me to go to Lion Country Safari with their public relations team in order to participate in one of the craziest experiential marketing events I’d ever heard about, I was intrigued. And based on the prospect of having a unique opportunity to stare down my childhood fear, I decided it was entirely necessary for me to attend.

And that’s how I convinced the protesting neurotic voice in the back of my head that I should get inside of Truly Nolen’s Mouselimo, the “head mouse” of a fleet of bright yellow mouse cars that make house calls to exterminate pests, to drive past a bunch of rhinos at Lion Country Safari. And then blog about it.

Off we go….

We pass the chimps who act like nothing is wrong and several types of horned prey animals who fear the Mouselimo, turn tail, and run for their lives. Everything seems fine. This is totally manageable: we’re driving along, I’m tweeting up a storm, the animals fear the mouse… we have the upper hand. I’m breathing. I’m cool. I’m remaining calm.

Then, I look to my left….

And I freeze, face to face with a rhino in all his Abrams main battle tank glory who, much to my chagrin, has no fear of Truly Nolen’s bright yellow Mouselimo.

And I’m not sure, but in the next few moments that passed, which seemed like an eternity of my staring eye to eye with this beefy battle tank beast, I break into a sweat. I stop breathing. I close my eyes.

And I start to pray:

Pleasedon’tdeflowerthemouselimopleasedon’tdeflowerthemouselimo
pleasedon’tdeflowerthemouselimopleasedon’tdeflowerthemouselimo
pleasedon’tdeflowerthemouselimopleasedon’tdeflowerthemouselimo
pleasedon’tdeflowerthemouselimopleasedon’tdeflowerthemouselimo
pleasedon’tdeflowerthemouselimopleasedon’tdeflowerthemouselimo
pleasedon’tdeflowerthemouselimopleasedon’tdeflowerthemouselimo
pleasedon’tdeflowerthemouselimopleasedon’tdeflowerthemouselimo
pleasedon’tdeflowerthemouselimo………………………………………………………

The car wasn’t moving. We weren’t going anywhere. I slowly began to open my left eye.

And I looked at him again. I considered him standing there, looking back at us. And I realized he might not be so bad. He actually seemed kind of chilled out chewing his grass… more curious about us than anything sinister. He certainly didn’t look like he had any unpleasant intentions toward our rodent-shaped chariot.

Clarity. It wasn’t going to happen. Exhale……………………

This was when our chauffer drove away. And the rhino was gone.

I felt lightheaded as I slowly started to breathe again. But we were safe.

I was breathing.

And we were safe.

No deflowering by scary rhino love monster.

Neurosis vanquished, all flowers intact.