By Philip Barney

Philip Barney releases Oscar, an iguana he rescued from the dinner pot while vacationing in Mexico.

My wife, Sally, and I recently traveled to Chiapas and South Yucatan to visit Mexican Mayan ruins. In Mexico City we rented a small purple Mexican Chevy we called the “grape” and drove to Palenque where we would charter a plane to fly to two remote jungle sites, Bonampak and Yaxchilan, located near the Usumacinta River, the boundary between Mexico and Guatemala.

Upon arrival in Palenque, we hired a fun, outgoing pilot named Oscar. The plan was for him to fly us to Yaxchilan, wait for us to tour the site, then fly us to Bonampak, wait again and finally fly us back to Palenque. Early the next morning, we headed for the airport only to find out that our tour operator had made a mistake and Oscar had chartered with some Canadians and was no longer available. We were advised to seek out another pilot, Pablo, a skinny, chain-smoking, raggedy, smelly individual who looked like he was on his last legs. His alleged flying machine looked even worse. Sally got on the phone and demanded our money back.

The tour operator arrived with her boss and a Mexican couple, but she refused to refund our money. Sally stuck her face inches from the woman and forcefully told her that if she did not give us our money immediately, Sally would head for the woman’s hotel and create a huge and noisy “escandalo” in the lobby. I had never heard that word before, but there was no misunderstanding its meaning. After a brief pause, the woman hauled the money from her pocket, thrust it in Sally’s direction, spun around, and with only a small measure of dignity, stamped off.

The Mexican couple, who had not yet paid, were persuaded to hang around while I sought Oscar to work something out. I soon learned no other plane was available. I took Oscar to the airport commandant’s office to seek out a flying map of the area and have a discussion.

“Oscar, what if you take your Canadians to Yaxchilan, drop them off and come back to fetch us. By the time we return to Yaxchilan, the Canadians will be ready to go to Bonampak, where you can dump them and come back for us. Then you’re back to Bonampak with us where you get the Canadians and bring them, back here, to Palenque. There will be plenty of daylight for you to come back and pick us up, getting back to Palenque before dark.”

Oscar and the commandant, a florid, overweight, short man, with a mean mustache but friendly disposition, looked at me for the longest moment, like I was a serious nut case. They engaged in a vigorous and very noisy discussion with much finger pounding on the map.

“We can’t do it,” Oscar finally reported.

“Why not?” I asked.

“Because we never have.”

I pointed out that flying two couples in one day would double Oscar’s money.

Another exchange occurred, this time very short and with huge grins.

Our short and narrow jungle dirt strips made me nervous. Taking off, Oscar always crossed himself, especially when we faced the low, setting sun which shone through the dirty windshield. I could hardly see 20 feet through it.

We returned to Palenque without mishap. The day had been a great adventure. While tying down the aircraft, I noticed Alejandro, our young acquaintance from the trip, walking across the runway, holding something in his arms.

“Hola Alejandro, what do you have?”

“I have an iguana, Felipe.”

“What will you do with the iguana?” I asked.

“We are going to have it for dinner.”

The day before, at our hotel, I had been awakened from an afternoon nap by a noisy commotion in the jungle outside our room. The commotion was instigated by an iguana climbing a tree toward another iguana that had been snoozing on a limb. The napping iguana was scrambling around, hissing, obviously unhappy with the intruder. This was clearly iguana habitat.

After Alejandro’s announcement of the iguana’s pending demise, rather disturbed, I turned to Sally and we decided to keep the lizard out of the pot.

“How much do you want for the iguana, Alejandro?”

“I don’t know, senor, my mama wants me to bring it home.”

“Alejandro, that’s an old iguana, very tough. How about I give you pesos and you can buy some sweet chicken for your Mama?”

“Well, maybe if you give me 50 pesos, my mama will be more happy about the chicken.” So, that was the deal.

We named our new friend Oscar in honor of our successful aviation adventure. I’m not sure whether our pilot felt honored or not. With his four legs tied behind him, we wrapped Oscar in a towel like a baby to protect Sally from bites and scratches and took off.

When we got to the Chan Kah Resort Village, a hotel with a jungle setting, it was night. We planned a maneuver for Oscar’s safe release behind our cabana. This involved enlisting the help of a hotel waiter, Carlos, who was to hold a flashlight, while Sally, having handed Oscar to me, would take photographs. Carlos was extremely nervous and muttering dire warnings about how vicious and poisonous iguanas were. His flashlight wavered considerably, making my chore of releasing Oscar much more difficult. With little hope of surviving without injury, I unwrapped Oscar and laid him down on his belly, a foot or so from where the jungle began and three feet from a small creek.

My Swiss Army knife cut through the tough plastic cord securing Oscar’s rear legs. Each plopped on the ground with a dead sound. I thought Oscar was either paralyzed or worse. As I hollered at the waiter, who was backing off, to steady the light, and at the same time tried to discuss Oscar’s condition with Sally, Oscar came alive and with tremendous speed launched himself into the jungle, front legs still fastened securely behind his back.

I hooted loudly and without thought dove after the iguana, into the creek. In the dark, thick brush and wetness, I found and grabbed a tail that I assumed was Oscar’s. I scrambled backward to avoid a severe bite.

Struggling to my feet, I was relieved to discover that the tail I held was attached to Oscar. Now a pro at releasing iguanas, I quickly, and with some help from Carlos, cut the front legs loose, held Oscar up by the tail and after Sally flashed several photos, laid him on the ground. And, that was that!

Barney is a longtime Los Altos resident.