While moving through the security area a few weeks back at Little Rock’s airport, I was reminded of another trip I took almost 40 years ago. It was the summer before my fifth grade year. The previous year, my family had moved back to Little Rock from Oklahoma City, and I had returned to Sooner land the next summer to spend a week with my friend Rusty.
One thing they have in Oklahoma that we are lacking in Arkansas is a reptile called the horned toad, or horny toad as we used to call them. They are actually lizards, but are known as toads, or frogs, because of their wide bodies and heads. They are covered in little horns; hence, the name.
But I always thought the best feature of the horny toad was their ability to shoot blood from their eyes when they felt threatened. No wonder TCU chose this fierce creature for the team’s mascot.
Naturally, I wanted to bring one home with me because I knew it would be a big hit with my friends back in Little Rock. Rusty helped me capture one and supplied a shoebox for transport. We filled the box with some dirt and grass and even some dead flies we had found on a windowsill.
Everything was prepared, or so we thought.
This was the summer of 1969, which coincidentally was the biggest year for hijackings ever in the United States. However, I must not have looked like a communist sympathizer because my toad and I passed through security without a problem.
On the plane, I remember a pretty stewardess telling me that I would have to place my box either on the floor or in the compartment above my head. I chose the floor and slid the box under my seat.
Soon, we were in the air, and my thoughts turned from reptiles to cloud shapes and soft drink choices. I drank my Coke and stared out the window into the endless blue sky, thinking about whatever adolescent boys think about.
Of course nothing so perfect is meant to last, and my serene world soon was shattered by a scream from behind. And not just any scream. It was one of those “this is the end “ screams – loud and long, the kind you hear when there’s a werewolf or mummy around.
When you are a young male and you hear a scream like that you instinctively begin to look for somewhere to hide – even when you know you haven’t done anything wrong, (at least nothing within recent memory). You just naturally expect to be blamed. It comes with the territory.
I looked under my seat and saw Rusty’s shoebox. I also saw that the lid was off, and I suddenly felt ill.
The woman’s screams had been replaced by sobs. I heard her say something like, “monster on my foot,” and, “bloody eyes.” I looked into the box at the red clay and grass. That and a couple of dead flies were all there was. I climbed back in my seat and tried to become invisible.
Soon the pretty stewardess came by and asked me to get my box and follow her. I said, “Who me?’ and she nodded.
“So this was it,” I thought to myself, fully expecting to be arrested and put in handcuffs, or perhaps even thrown into the sky.
We came to the front and she knocked on a door. It opened and a tall man stood there in front of me. The stewardess told me he was the captain, and I barely got out a hello while staring down at the floor.
“I think we may have found something that belongs to you,” he said in a deep voice. I looked up and he was holding my toad in his large hand.
“I haven’t seen such a good looking horny toad since I was about your age,” he said to me through a smile. “Be sure and take good care of him, and keep that lid on tight.”
“Yes sir!” I said, thrilled I would live.
The pretty stewardess pointed to an empty seat there in first class and told me to sit in it. She brought me another Coke with some cherries and I took a quick peek in the box. Bloodshot eyes stared up at me, and life was good again.