Beginning his career sweeping the floors of the American Natural History Museum in New York, Andrews eventually worked his way up to director of the museum and became an accomplished hunter of dinosaur fossils, even where those fossils were guarded by gun-toting brigands. After all, they belong in a museum. One anecdote tells of the time Andrews battled a 20-foot-long python, ultimately shooting it in the head and watching its dying body writhe and flail in the underbrush. Apparently he didn't think much of snakes, either.
"You're my next hat."
There's now an award named after Andrews, given every year to people who continue his legacy of giving zero fucks in their quest for scientific kickassery. Winners include Lonnie and Ellen Mosely-Thompson, who explore "the most inhospitable places on the planet" in hot air balloons and on yaks, and once dragged a bunch of ice cores across the Gobi Desert simply because that seemed like something that couldn't be done. Then you have Mark Moffett, adventurer entomologist, who apparently once fought off Colombian drug lords with a blowgun.
And discovered this thing. We'd probably go another round with the Colombians.