Steak Pit is said to be one of the few good restaurants in Snowbird area. After a chain of disappointments in the Sushi bar, Mexican Grill and Pasta place, we figured steak house was a safe bet in the West. It was tolerable except the service was too fast without a proper break between each course. The concept of medium rare was quite a big gap from East Coast. All of us had to send it back after a first cut in to the fillet mignon. 

Without a doubt in mind, I ordered a glass of house Australian Shiraz. The waiter said they didn’t have it which seemed odd. Shiraz and Cabernet are the two stronger red wines that go well with steak and Australia is known for good Shiraz. I asked for a wine list to pick out a substitute and found Australian Shiraz was the first on the list. I requested it again with delight. The waiter apologized for his oversight. 

Half way through the meal, some local celebrity came by to say hello. He is the son of Dick Bass who is the pioneer and owner of Snowbird ski resort. The chat was always about snows and the mountain and how we all have skied on the Dick Bass trail so and so on. After he left, we went back to the topics of adventure into Africa and South America, wine in Napa and Bordeaux, concerts of Bruce Springsteen and Led Zeppelin. 

Suddenly, I saw something brownish moving on the snow outside of the glass door. It was the size of two footballs with many needles spiking out. I registered the image with my poor vocabulary of animals and announced, “Look, it is porcupine.” All city slickers stopped all motions and cramped in front of the door. The waiter took a load of bread, opened a crack of the door and threw the bread to the porcupine. “Larry comes here every night in winter.”

We were obsessed with Larry. Instead of eating our steaks, we watched Larry eat the bread. Larry was very picky and ate only the soft part of the bread leaving the crust untouched. 

I casually commented, “I usually like the crust better.”

Everyone laughed, “You two will make good friends then.”

“He looks so huggable but of course no one wants to get near him.” Someone else observed and we agreed Larry was as oxymoron as an animal can get. 

“I wonder if I can get one as a pet.” I said to myself.

Marie gave me a shovel in the elbow, “What is wrong with you? You want nothing but strange pets, camel, penguin, now porcupine.” 

I couldn’t help thinking I am eccentric as well but after all, walking a camel, a penguin and a porcupine in Central Park is a thought quite irresistible.   

Based on the waiter and the driver who took us back to the lodge later, Larry is as famous as Dick Bass in the area if not more. He had a girlfriend last year but dumped her quickly because she usually took away a big chunk of his food. Survival first, sentiment comes second. I don’t blame him.

“He is just like any man, selfish and uncaring” Robin took it quite personal.

“Yet, we can’t live without them, man or Larry” I spoke the truth as always. Robin signed and nodded reluctantly.  

Men are also lovable but dangerous, just like Larry, I thought to myself. The key is to love them as much without getting hurt. Keep a distance from him, give him enough space to maneuver, do not depend on him to survive, share most interests but always explore on your own. Love is a game with a set of rules and terms, the winner is the one who masters them, obeys them and with a bit of luck and brain, revise them sometimes.