If I Were a Camel

If you close your eyes while you're ambling along atop a camel, it is
easy to imagine that you and this prehistoric beast—doubtless they are
the closest living relative to the brontosaurus—are one. Your legs
are now eight feet long, an extension of your human pelvis…if runway
models could strut this way, fashion would never be the same. Atop
your camel neck, sits your camel head equipped with floppy lips, Betty
Boop eyelashes, and a calm Buddhist demeanor. Like the snaky eye of a
submarine, you take in your surroundings, but don't deign to react to
anything—it's all zen, baby. When it comes time to stop, you groan as
you lower yourself, accordion-style, to the ground, folding your long
legs under you. As night falls, you are given freedom to roam into
the desert, far from the turbaned man who tamed you, and even farther
from the saddle he created to make you his beast of burden. For a
couple of hours, you are the desert denizen you once were.