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Whale of a tale Real Life Gives Them the WilliesBy Rick Horowitz
One of them was a big fish. The other one eats big fish. One of them can blow smoke whenever he opens his mouth. The other one can blow water out of a hole in his head. One of them has a killer smile. The other one is a killer whale. They've both spent years in the spotlight -- and they're both having trouble adjusting to a more ordinary existence. Slick Willie, meet Free Willy. "Slick Willie" isn't Bill Clinton's real name, of course, though if you were trying to squeeze one man's essence into a short and snappy (and printable) phrase, you could do a lot worse. And "Free Willy" isn't the whale's real name either; it's the name of the movie that made the orca Keiko a star almost a decade ago. (Or in whale years, almost a decade ago.) The big boys -- both of them -- are back in the news these days. Seems they're finding it difficult to cope with the kinds of day-to-day details other members of their respective species take for granted. For Bill Clinton, it's the niceties of cell phones and bank accounts and insurance and such. For Keiko, it's returning to the ocean and hunting down his own food. Welcome to life in the wild, guys. Get used to it. The thing about being in charge of the large things for so long -- governor of a state, then president of all the states -- is that other people are there to take care of the small things for you. When most of those people suddenly vanish, it can be hard to fend for yourself. Which is why we're seeing these stories about how Bill Clinton tries to use a portable phone and keeps accidentally hitting the disconnect button. About how a Clinton aide accompanies the ex-prez to an automatic teller machine and notices he's keeping a million-dollar balance in a basic checking account. About how Clinton discovers that his homeowner's policy doesn't cover him when the basement up in Chappaqua is flooded and his rare-book collection is badly damaged. I can certainly sympathize. Who wouldn't? I can even empathize. I'm not especially good with cell phones myself. I also have a ridiculous sum of money in my checking account. (Ridiculous high, ridiculous low -- what's the difference?) I even have a basement. Empathy? Certainly. But I'm sure it's even worse tackling those kinds of things after decades in captivity. It's much more fun performing live near the Apollo. Just ask Keiko. (Not about the Apollo. About the decades in captivity.) Keiko's having as hard a time adjusting as Clinton is, and he's been at it longer. For the past several years, in fact, Keiko's been living in an oceanic halfway house in his native Iceland while his handlers try to turn him into just another killer whale. It isn't taking. (Before I forget: something else Clinton and Keiko have in common -- the U.S. Air Force. Clinton used to fly all around the globe on Air Force One, a plane specially equipped for the particular needs of The President of the United States. Keiko flew back home aboard a C-17 Globemaster III -- "the only aircraft in the world," an Air Force newspaper proudly notes, "capable of carrying the almost 81,000 pounds of whale and equipment, refueling in-flight and landing on a short gravel runway in the Westman Islands, Iceland." Talk about specialized.) Anyway: Keiko refuses to let go. He's made 60 trips outside his pen, the stories say, but he doesn't stray very far and he still doesn't want to hang out with the other whales. He may never want to. After all these years, his handlers say, Keiko is "addicted" to humans. (Sound like anyone else we know?) And time is running out. There's a salmon farm about to be built right next door to Keiko's pen, and his handlers may have to find another home for him. "Keiko Comes to Harlem"? It worked for the other guy. Posted 7/31/01. Rick's
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Rick Horowitz
