Monkeys Stole My Pants

...well, they tried to anyway...while I was wearing them. Here's how it all went down (and, by the way, if you see these monkeys, don't be surprised if they are wearing women's pants or even drinking beer and playing poker for that matter):

On our way to the Myanmar (formerly Burma) border, we stopped at a monkey temple. Despite my recent run-in with monkey boxers, I was still optimistic about the little scamps. I mean, look at Curious George! He was just a little mischievous, but his friendship with the man in the yellow hat always led him down the right path. Surely these monkeys would be different. They do live at a temple after all!

Sadly, I was wrong...again.

We got to the temple, and, as usual, there was a large sign warning against about 25 activities that might upset (read: rile up) the monkeys including feeding them, petting them, being too interesting, you know, the usual. Being that I didn't have a random stray dog with me this time, I figured I was probably safe (and I was prepared to be VERY uninteresting) and that the long list was one of paranoia on the part of the keepers. Now I know that not only was I not safe, I was REALLY interesting.

When we pulled up to the main part of the temple, monkeys were everywhere...well, mostly in the trees, but there were tons of 'em. Mommies, daddies, babies, the whole kit 'n caboodle! We wandered around watching them, photographing them, smiling at them ever so innocently while they plotted away at our eventual demise.

The monkeys came down from the trees when the keepers allowed some people to feed them bananas. The monkeys (which were macaques, and given my limited yet negative experience with them, I believe are the meanest monkeys around) swarmed the couple, and the keeper had to swat at the woman because (like and idiot), she was trying to pet them and wanted to pick them up. Apparently she is immune to rabies (or she enjoys shots). And that's when I became aware of...

Monkey attack #1:

The wife of the Canadian (who was also a witness of the monkey/dog fight a week before) was innocently walking toward us when a monkey approached her, grabbed her bag, started rummaging around, then stole her water and ran up the tree where he not only took off the plastic wrap, but opened the bottle and drank the contents. When questioned as to why she didn't try and prevent the monkey from stealing from her (by someone that also didn't seem to understand the concept of potentially rabid wild animals...and the even worse effects they would have on pregnant women), she simply replied, "I wasn't fighting him. If he wants my water, I'll gladly spend the dollar on a new one."

As we marveled over the sight of the monkeys being generally mischievous, their brethren started inching closer (mostly, I'm guessing, because the people feeding them were forced to stop after the reprimand over petting the animals). Heeding the advice of our guide, I became extremely uninteresting. I didn't talk. I didn't move. I just stood there, until I absolutely had to move because one of them was way too close. As I tried to slowly and lazily lose the monkey who was trailing me, the keeper motioned to us to back away from the tree under which we were standing. Why? Because it was time for....

Monkey Attack #2:

Dr. Evil (the monkey up in the tree above us) was busily breaking off branches and other large tree limbs with a single purpose in mind--to hit us on our noggins from about 50 feet above. Oh it's true. He would rip off the branch, then hold it, waiting for someone to walk under the tree, at which point, he would throw it at them. I'm guessing this wasn't the first time because the keeper was very careful as to where to have us stand.

While watching this odd and malicious behavior, a couple monkeys decided to tango with me, leading to...

Monkey Attack #3

They started by grabbing at my bag (which had, well, nothing in it except for a book). They quickly lost interest in that and backed off. Unfortunately for me, they had their eyes set on other things, namely, my pants. Yeah, the ones I was wearing. One monkey walked behind me and grabbed my pants with his hands and started yanking. Within seconds, four monkeys were grabbing my pants, but not just with their hands, they were pulling my pants off with their teeth. And guess what? So not sexy.

Needless to say I was a little more than freaked out, and I was having to dig deep to remain uninteresting, but it wasn't working. I just started announcing, "Monkeys have my pants! Monkeys have my pants!" while standing there, feeling my pants slowly succumb to all of the pulling.

My guide stood next to me and calmly whispered, "Just stay calm and slowly walk away."

To that I replied, "I can't! My pants will come off. They won't let go."

"Oh." He said. Then he motioned for the keeper to come over. The keeper grabbed his bamboo stick and walked over to me, shooing the monkeys off of my pants and away from me. he then advised me to go back to the truck because they weren't going to leave me alone.

I calmly walked back to the truck, as one the monkeys trailed a couple feet behind. I could tell he was still after my pants, but he wasn't getting them without a fight (well, okay, I'd probably give them up pretty quick because my honest concern was that their mouths were way too close to my legs, and I REALLY didn't want to get bitten as they continued their quest to de-pants me), but luckily that fight never happened.

I got into the truck, my little monkey friend sat right next to it, causing me to wonder if he might join me. Then a few minutes later, everyone else joined me, and we drove away...with all of our pants...and a little bit of our dignity.