Before the Dragon, There is the Serpent.

In downtown Asheville on a Friday night, you will find a guy with a boa constrictor that you can ask him to hold, for a tip in his money jar. 

My son and I like to go downtown from time to time on a weekend night, as locals, and do the things that tourists do. And I love to hold the boa. 

My teenage son does not. 

A few years ago, I wanted a pet snake. A friend of mine knew a young woman who rescued snakes and had her own traveling reptile exhibit, and she graciously invited me into her home while she brought out one snake at a time so that I could “feel” which snake was right for me before I adopted my own. 

Honestly, the bigger the better. 

The little ones were writhy and beautiful, but not my type. The python was gorgeous and I had a surprisingly easy time holding it, but it also didn’t really do anything for me. There wasn’t any “spark.” 

Then, she brought out the boa. Bigger and fatter than the guy’s downtown. I was standing on her deck and she placed it around my shoulders and as it began to cling to my body, I got full, full body chills and felt a surge of what I’d call eros or life force, and I fucking loved it. It was one of the best feelings of my life. 

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