Finnegan's Awake

            by Jacob Schneider

 

            Once upon a time, there lived a round gray elephant named Finnegan. Finnegan lived in the Waldorf-Astoria Hotel in New York City. He was a very enlightened and intelligent elephant from a long line of enlightened and intelligent elephants. His great-great-grandfather, Winfred III, had been the first elephant to move from Africa to New York City and as a result Finnegan enjoyed a comfortable life living at the top of New York City’s most luxurious hotel.

 

 

            Every morning, he put on his gray pinstriped suit, placed his large pipe at the tip of his trunk, and took his morning stroll around the neighborhood. He tipped his hat to Francis, the doorman. He chatted with the funny short man at the newsstand on the corner while he purchased his copy of that day’s New York Times. Then he stopped at a café for a large cup of coffee. He circled the block three times, breathing deeply as he stomped in time.

            “How do you do, Mr. Finnegan?” asked Francis, just like any other morning.

            “Hello, Finnegan,” greeted the man at the newsstand, just like any other morning. “Your copy of Elephant Weekly just arrived this morning!”

            “Just your regular cupa joe?” asked the waiter at the café, just like any other morning.

            “What good fortune I had to be born an enlightened hotel elephant and not one of those dreadful zoo animals,” thought Finnegan as he walked along the tree-lined street. Once when he was young, Finnegan had gone on a field trip to the zoo. Yes, it had been fun to laugh at the funny animals, but at the end of the day, he was happy to return to his hotel suite and not a dirty puddle of mud.

            “Yes, I am a very lucky elephant indeed,” he said with a long puff on his pipe. Then, he entered the subway station, paid the fare, and caught the next train. Many people don’t like riding the subway, but Finnegan felt quite at home among the screeching trains and dark, damp tunnels. He rode the subways everyday, always sitting in the second-to-last seat of the car with his legs crossed and his face hidden behind the newspaper. He liked the subways especially because of the number of people he could see in a day. All day every day he rode the subways and observed people. When he grew hungry or tired, Finnegan would simply take the subway back to the Waldorf-Astoria.

            One particular day, Finnegan was having so much fun on the subway he forgot to go home for his afternoon nap. He took the train all the way to the end of the line.

            “Everybody off!” yelled the conductor. Finnegan exited the subway station.

            It was a neighborhood that he didn’t recognize. The streets and houses were grayer than him. The sky was so dark that Finnegan could hardly see. All around him, little people scurried to and fro. This neighborhood was a far cry from Finnegan’s cushy digs. He missed his sunny, tree-lined streets and comfortable hotel. He resolved to find a way home.

            “Excuse me. Might you direct me to my hotel? I seem to have lost my bearings,” Finnegan asked a man wearing a long black trench coat. The man looked up at Finnegan and frowned.

            “You don’t look like you’re from around here!” he said with a sneer. Confused, Finnegan continued down the bleak block.

            “I’ve lost my hotel? Can you help me find it?” he asked the short, bald man at the newsstand at the corner. The man abruptly closed his stall and ran down the block. Finnegan was extremely disoriented. Not only had he lost his hotel, but nobody would help him. He’d never encountered such rudeness in his life. Once again, he thought about the friendly confines of the Waldorf-Astoria. He sat down at a bench on the corner to think for a second.

            Before he could say, “Room service, please,” a black truck pulled up in front of him. It said ANIMAL CONTROL in big white letters across the side. On top of the truck, there were six flashing red lights and four antennas. Out of the back of the truck came two men in black suits and masks.

 

          

 

     “We are reporting an unidentified pachyderm object. I repeat: an unidentified pachyderm object in Coney Island. Over and out,” one man yelled into a large walkie-talkie. Suddenly, Finnegan felt a sharp pain in his trunk. The men had hooked his trunk! He was trapped. With a pull, the men in suits herded Finnegan into the back of the truck. Already there were a depressed-looking zebra and a flamingo that looked as if its tail feathers had been burned off in a terrible accident.

            “Another failed escape, huh?” the zebra lamented. “Me too. I was almost to New Jersey, also. One more freeway exit…”

            “To what exactly do you refer?” asked Finnegan. He was extremely confused.

            “The zoo. I escaped. Well, we’re going back now.” Finnegan was stunned. The zoo. He’d never considered the possibility. Why, he was a well-bred city elephant with a  taste for gourmet coffee and weekly therapy appointment. He had no desire to live out in the open like some animal.

            But sure enough, they soon passed through a large metal archway that announced, “Bronx Zoo.” The truck shuddered to a stop and a harried woman opened the back door.

            “All right, fun’s over,” she said. “There you are, Bartholomew. Good to see those stripes again. Gave us quite a scare last night. And you too, Horace. Pink as ever.”

            She stopped when she saw Finnegan. “You must be the mystery elephant,” she said. “Oh well, we’ll just put you with the other elephants.”

            In the fading evening light, she marched Finnegan past the ostriches in their desert, the polar bears on their icecap, the swans in their lake, and the little rollercoaster and cotton candy stand. Just around the corner from the three-toed sloths, she pushed Finnegan into a large enclosure. It had one large tree and three massive rocks. He could see seven elephants.

            “Hello, my name is Boris,” said the largest. “Welcome to Swahili Square. I think you’ll find that we have everything you need here, although I must say you’re dressed kind of funny.”

            Finnegan could see that he was over-dressed in his pinstriped suit. “Where do you sleep?” he asked Boris. He couldn’t see any hotels in the zoo.

            “Why, under the tree, of course,” Boris replied with a chuckle.

            “And if you get hungry during the night? Where’s the closest twenty-four hour diner?” asked Finnegan.

            “Well, usually a few twigs will tide you over until morning until you can go foraging properly,” answered Boris.

            Finnegan spent an uncomfortable night out in the open wishing he were at the Waldorf-Astoria.

            In the morning, he awoke with a start. There were people on the other side of the fence pointing at him and laughing. He walked to the other side of a large boulder and thought about life at the zoo. He’d never felt so low in his life.

            “Psss…” He looked up to see Bartholomew under the tree. “Want to get away? Meet me back here after they close the zoo.”

            Finnegan imagined returning to his hotel. He could hardly wait. Suddenly life looked up a little. He was so excited that he even paraded around in front of a class of little kids. The other elephants applauded.

            “You spent all night moping around,” said Boris. “Why are you so happy now?”

            “I’m returning to my hotel tonight,” Finnegan said. Not wanting to seem rude, he added, “Thank you all for your hospitality. If I didn’t have another home, I could get used to living in the zoo.”

            “Well, there are city elephants and there are zoo elephants. I myself couldn’t imagine being cooped up in a building all day or being around humans. They stink.” The other elephants laughed.

            “Hmm….” thought Finnegan. “I always used to laugh at animals in the zoo. Who’d have thought they laugh at me, too.”

            At the appointed time, Batholomew met him under the tree. Finnegan tipped his hat to Boris who solemnly nodded back. Then Bartholomew showed him the hole in the fence that he used to escape.

 

           

 

            “The problem is I always get this far and don’t know where to go,” said Bartholomew. “Sometimes I take the highway, sometimes I sleep in the park, but they always catch me.”

            “I can help you with that,” said Finnegan and led them to a subway entrance. They entered the station and boarded the next train.

            “Next stop is 42^nd St. Grand Central Station,” said the conductor.

            “That’s our stop,” said Finnegan. They left the subway station and walked along the tree-lined street. The man in the newsstand was closing it for the night.

            “Missed you this morning, Finnegan,” he said. At the café on the corner, the waiter smiled and waved. Finally, they reached the Waldorf-Astoria. It had never seemed more beautiful.

            “Won’t you come in,” said Francis the doorman. “Welcome home.”

            Finnegan tipped his hat and went inside.