My strident aim was to avoid the Disneyland package tour everyone and their mother was hell-bent on participating in, a three-day/two-night extravaganza with a cursory jungle walk and an elephant ride. I wasn’t against riding elephants in theory, assuming they’re cared for, but it would feel less asshole-ish if it was a necessity rather than a tourist dalliance. In Thailand, I gave Dumbo a spin. Admittedly, it was fun, but every time I rest on the memory, I have an uncontrollable desire to kick my own ass.

I’d read the pachyderm express was ideal for circumnavigating the freakishly tall and surprisingly sharp elephant grass covering areas of Chitwan.

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