The law of the jungle

Mark Levison, The Levison Group

A while ago, I needed a little escape from the practice of law. Since I work hard, I think I deserve good vacations, from time to time, so I decided to go to the kingdom of Nepal. My wife, Cheryl, has never seen the Taj Mahal, so I thought we’d stop by on our way to Mt. Everest. I’m also a sucker for Nepal’s Chitwan National Park where you can ride elephants while looking for tigers. I tried that once before, but it didn’t work out that well. Anyway, Nepal wasn’t that strange of a choice for us, because I’m not one to shy away from unusual destinations. (In fact, a couple days after ISIS took “credit” for killing close to 100 people at a peace demonstration in Turkey, I booked a trip with a 24-hour layover there. The fares are always cheaper when everybody is scared). Nevertheless, this time I had to rethink my plan. The massive earthquake in Nepal, with its severe infrastructure damage and probable health-related problems, was too much even for me. I had to find a place at least a little less contagious, so I booked a trip to Southern Tanzania and Zanzibar, with a stopover at an innocuous Eastern European city: Budapest.

The day of my trip arrived. Before leaving the law office, I went through the usual drill. I arranged for an economical phone plan so I could communicate with my office and clients. It had free texting, good data and inexpensive talking (after paying a base fee). I arranged for my fellow lawyers to look out for my clients. The last thing I did was change my work voicemail to explain to my clients that although I wasn’t in the office, it would be no problem to reach me. Oh, and of course, there was the required stop at the pharmacy to pick up the anti-malaria pills.

Everything seemed set. Of course, that’s when things happen that we can’t anticipate. Regular, full-sized commercial airlines got us from the States to Dar es Salaam with little intrigue. From Dar es Salaam, we took a five-passenger bush plane to the first game site: the Saadani Game Reserve. The lodging on the Wami river was spectacular, made even more special by the fact that Cheryl and I were the only ones there! As a result, we had our own private staff — a manager, an assistant manager, our own cook who prepared customized food orders, a host of waiters and lodge staff, our own driver and a Maasai safari guide. Our thatched suite connected to the central lodge, to the river-view dining hall and to the swimming pool via an elevated bamboo walkway, and came complete with its own troop of Colobus monkeys. These large black and white primates look a little like 50 pound skunks. They were often bouncing on our thatched roof, showing off on our balcony, or perched in trees outside our bathroom, inquisitively looking through the floor to ceiling windows when I was taking a bath.

Although I could speak to the Colobuses at any hour of the day or night, for some reason, my cell phone refused to make connections with the outside world, despite my great data plan. It was on the second day that the assistant manager uttered a sentence I had never heard before, and think it unlikely I will ever hear again: “The hippopotamus knocked out the Internet.” She told me they had made a call and it would be fixed in the morning. But this was Africa, and somehow the damage wreaked by the bad hippo was not rectified during my stay.

 We next flew from the Sadaani to the Selous, the largest and, in some ways, wildest game park in East Africa. It has lots of lions.

For some people it takes a little getting used to watching lions munch on antelopes. That is not altogether unexpected. When a lion is eating, he doesn’t pay any attention to people in cars and when you’re ten feet away, in a completely open vehicle, the look and sound of a skull crunching can come across as a bit chilling. At one point, we happened on a dozen gigantic crocodiles fighting over pieces of a water buck. Some of the crocs had legs sticking out of their mouths. Still, one testament to the adaptability of mankind is that, eventually, most African sojourners get into the circle of life and start feeling grateful for the opportunity to witness life unfolding on the savannah and the lessons it offers, or as they say in Tanzania, “hakuna matata.”

The game park at the Selous didn’t even pretend to have Internet service. I could almost hear my clients and law partners reading my “out of office” message that said I was reachable and muttering “Liar!” to themselves while staring at their computer screens.

From the Selous, we flew to the isle of Zanzibar, off the Tanzanian coast. Prior to the flight, our Land Rover driver uttered another phrase I had never anticipated hearing.
He told me we needed to arrive for the flight a few minutes early, “because I have to chase away any giraffes on the runway.” I hadn’t contemplated our pilot taking precautions to avoid running into a giraffe, but I guess it’s just the law of the jungle.

Our flight went okay and we landed in Zanzibar, a former Arab trading island, which is about 90 percent Muslim. The people were delightful, although the international communication was only slightly better than in the game parks. Women clothed in burqas (with only eyes visible) walking along the beach actually seemed less familiar to me than elephants knocking down trees on the savannah. From Zanzibar, we flew to Budapest.

When I booked the flight to Budapest, nobody had heard of an immigration crisis. By the time departure day arrived, some friends told me it was foolish to go there. After all, the media were portraying the city in turmoil with all kinds of problems at the train station, and we were scheduled to take overnight trains to Prague and back.

All the fears and trepidation were overblown. Budapest was thoroughly delightful. I never saw anybody I could identify as an immigrant. The train stations were immaculate, no trash and no troubles. Hakuna matata. To East Europe’s credit, the prices were inexpensive, life was good, and the communication with my clients was better. It was surprisingly easy to hear their dismay at my lack of communication over the prior two weeks. I had a difficult time understanding their view but, of course, after being gone for a couple of weeks, sometimes one stops thinking too much about what’s going on back home.

Eventually, however, we had to head back. In some ways, the biggest shock was what awaited our return home. A client was sued while I was gone and a response to the suit was due in five days. I asked opposing counsel for more time to respond and he said “no,” his client would not consent. If I wanted more time we would have to go see the judge. I asked him if he wasn’t embarrassed to appear before the judge opposing my request for a little time to respond to the complaint. He told me he wasn’t, and that, in fact, he’d argued more outrageous positions before. Then I received responses to discovery sent out before I left.

Attorneys were making unfounded objections to discovery they knew they would have to produce eventually. It was running up costs and had no logic other than sometimes parties think it’s in their interest to extend discovery because they hope the other side will tire or perhaps be outspent. That’s not legitimate, but it’s done. On the other hand, they may just be hoping that the judge will already be tired, or misinformed. After all, we’ve all run into judges whose case comprehension seems to be equivalent to that of a renegade hippo. The litigation jungle has its own rules and pitfalls.

It was no wonder that, by the time I’d finished my first day back at work, I found myself longing for a gentler life amongst the lions and the crocodiles. Often, the rules of the jungle are easier to deal with than the rules of civil procedure.

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Under Analysis is a nationally syndicated column of the Levison Group. Mark Levison is a member of the law firm Lashly & Baer, P.C. Contact Under Analysis by e-mail at comments@levisongroup.com.
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