It would be difficult to describe the bedlam that ensued once we’d freed the animals: the brown, bucking triceratopses and the turkey-sized velociraptors (with their semi-transparent skin and pink, unblinking eyes); the Flashback-crazed iguanodons with their strange, false thumbs and even stranger patterns—the “tobacco” spitting dilophosaurs; the screaming pterodactyls. All I know is that by the time we’d mounted our horses and galloped away from the kennels (which were under the front awning of the hotel, the glass doors of which we’d smashed), the place was virtually crawling—both inside and out—with dangerous fauna; enough so that any attempt to prevent our escape would have proved not merely difficult—it would have been counterproductive. Nor did we stop or even slow down until we’d r
