Wit Stop

WIT STOP If I Were a Cactus It Would Have Its Advantages

I took a Jeep tour into the desert on the outskirts of Phoenix. It was fascinating. The tour guide was witty, personable, and knowledgeable - the exact opposite of the bigmouth sitting behind me in the Jeep.At one of our stops, this gentleman "informed" his young son that if he were ever stranded in the desert with no water, he could simply break off an arm of a cactus and drink the plentiful water contained therein.

I told the guy, out of earshot of his son, that his advice was dangerous and might even be fatal. This "Sage of the Desert" told me that he once saw John Wayne save his and Maureen O'Hara's lives by drinking from a cactus. I told him that John Wayne was an actor not a biologist.

We didn't talk much after that. To each other, that is. This gentleman never stopped talking throughout the tour to anyone within earshot.I avoided him by simply enjoying the cactuses. Or is it cacti? Well, I'd enjoy one cactus, then I'd enjoy another, and so on. They're beautiful, majestic plants that may not be filled with potable liquid, but they are filled with self-esteem.

I identified with the cactus on that trip, became one with it. I wished I were a cactus. It would have its advantages.

For one thing, I wouldn't have to get back into the Jeep with the "Solomon of the Saguaro."

If I had been a cactus, I could I could have gotten through my entire childhood without once being spanked by my parents. Mom and Dad were strict, but they weren't stupid.

I could have grown through my young adult life without having to endure any of those lung-flattening hello and good-bye hugs from Big Aunt Mabel.

No sir, being a cactus would not be a bad life at all. Oh sure, I'd have to stand in the hot desert sun all day, but on the other hand, I'd never have another cactus come up to me and say, "Yes, it's hot, but it's a dry heat."

I'd never have the aggravation of someone pushing ahead of me in line. It would just never happen. No one would be fool enough to anger me and then have to stand with their back exposed to me with my veritable arsenal of prickly needles.

No sir, if I were a cactus, they'd all gladly go to the end of the line.

As a cactus, I'd rarely have occasion to go to a theater or sit in a cramped airline seat. But if I did, my spiny thorns would guarantee that I'd win the fight for the common armrest space.No matter how crowded the bus or subway would be, I'd always have plenty of space around me.

I'd never have to learn to dance.

As a cactus, I'd get all the water I needed through my complex and efficient root system. I'd never have to pay for or lug around a container of bottled water like everyone else on our planet does nowadays.

Every one of you has felt the excruciating pain of stubbing your toe. As a cactus, I'd be safe from that. Because I would never move, it would be impossible to stub my toe, which I wouldn't have anyway.

I'd make it a point to be a male cactus. Those spines would wreak havoc with pantyhose. I'd enjoy my life as a cactus. Granted there's not much money in it. But then we cactuses (the recommended plural is "cactuses." I looked it up. Now that I am one, I have to know what to call the children.) don't have much use for money. However, if I did carry a lot of cash in my back pocket, I'd never have to worry about pickpockets.

As a cactus, all I'd have to do is sit there contentedly, soak up the sun's warmth, drink of the Earth's moisture, and listen to some bigmouth daddy tourist tell his little tourist tykes that if they're ever abandoned in the desert without water, all they'd have to do is break open a cactus and guzzle the water therein.

Oh well, no life's perfect.