Apparently the entire world has decided to go to the zoo.
No, I'm serious here, people. Every damn person who isn't incarcerated or
in a coma has decided to take advantage of a day off coupled with November
temperatures in the high 60's, and go to Franklin Park Zoo. The parking lots are full, and we have to
pass two more extra lots and side-street parking before we come to a dirt lot
where we find a spot and face the car out for a quick get-away later. My daughter and I are going to fight the
crowds from start to finish, and we are going to have a good day at the zoo if
it kills us both.
No sooner are we out of the car and onto the sidewalk when
she is attacked by a tree branch. I'm
not kidding; I see it with my own eyes.
The branch jumps off the ground, grabs her ankle, and tries to maim her
by tripping her directly into the street.
She dances around for a moment but maintains her balance. She had been attacked by an even larger
branch the day before, so this sneak attack does not cause the same damage its
larger counterpart did. She is like Tree
Branch Ninja and quickly disposes of the limb with a loud snap.
We survive the tree branch assault and are happily making
our way toward the zoo's back entrance when we are assaulted again, this time
by dozens of miniature sprinters. We
know that there is a cross-country running course here, but we didn't expect
there to be a race today, which we realize isn't truly what is happening when
we hear the tepid cries of "Diego Diego DIEGO!" coming from behind
us. Apparently Diego Diego Diego and his
nine or ten siblings have gotten away from their mother, who pushes six or
seven more in a giant stroller. We jump
off the sidewalk, opt for the street, and pick up the pace to make sure we put
distance between us and them before we hit the zoo … entrance … Hey, what the
hell! How the hell did they get IN FRONT
of us in line? Does she have a friggin'
turbo stroller? How the …
damnitall. Now as we wait in line, we
have Diego Diego Diego and his line-dancing dwarf siblings surrounding us like
the sudden invasion of the Alamo. The
only things that are missing are coonskin hats, Santa Ana, and the bugle
playing "No Quarter."
The line to get into the zoo is long, not as long as when we
waited that last time to see the corpse flower (Remember that adventure?
Another doozey!), but still. Long. Very long.
Usually members are allowed to show their cards and get right in, but
only one window is open today, so we wait.
All of us. All of us with
membership cards, even Diego Diego Diego's mother, waiting in line with the
in-line paying families and waiting, waiting, waiting. All of us.
Except…
Suddenly from behind, we are assaulted yet again, this time
by an uppity suburban-mom type woman who looks thirty, is probably eighty, and
has enough botox and self-importance in her to supply the entire state of
California, including Beverly Hills, Hollywood, and the whole of the San
Andreas Fault, which is roughly the same length as her mouth. She demands to know why she has to wait, and
she starts verbally assaulting those of us who have finally made it to the
entrance turnstile. She starts screaming about how she is a MEMBER OF THE ZOO
and how she has a LARGE PARTY WITH HER and shouldn't someone just LET HER IN. So we show her our membership cards, the
group behind me and I do and Diego Diego Diego's mom does. We ALL have membership cards, and we ALL are
waiting in line like sane, rational, reasonable people. She sees we will not budge, and she starts
jockeying her way into the front of the line.
And then it happens.
This is the moment my daughter cringes from; this is the
moment that friends and family start changing their names and addresses,
covering their faces, and filing papers to enter the witness relocation program;
this is the moment where my mouth is going to open and very bad things are
going to fly out and hit this ugly bitch right between her over-plucked
eyebrows. My fists are balling, my blood
pressure is sky-rocketing, and my left eye starts to twitch as every swear word
I ever learned begins sifting out of my brain and making an express trip
directly to my larynx. Not only am I
going to hurl some mighty insults at this woman, but I might have to strangle
her until she is blue and cannot utter another sound from between her
professionally capped teeth.
In short, this zoo visitor is going to die. Right here.
Right now.
But then, to my absolute amazement, the people behind me
throw a perfect flanking maneuver, Diego Diego Diego's mom gathers her litter
to block the entire entranceway, I turn my back on Ms. More Important than God,
and no one…. NO ONE … lets her in. She
continues to rant and spew and threaten stupid asshole things like, "We'll
just leave then! We're not waiting in
this line! Do you know who I
am?" And of course we all ignore
her because we don't care if she leaves nor waits in line, and we know damn
well who she is -- A damn rude douche, that's who. Though we continue to look for her during our
jaunt through the zoo, we never do see her again. And that's good, because I am still furious
with her, and I also still have all those swears building up behind my voice
box just waiting to mainline to my mouth, and that kind of backlog sort of
burns a bit.
We enjoy our three-mile walk to and around and from the
zoo. Many of the animals are gone for
the day as the signs tell us "because it's so cold" at almost 70
degrees - go figure. And many of the
animals are just too darn tired of seeing people to bother anymore. The zebra and donkey stand still like they've
been to the taxidermist already; the leopard can't be bothered to move from its
perch, its head resting on its mammoth paws; the lion is dead asleep (or maybe
just dead) on his side in his display; a gorilla lies motionless near the glass,
its ass facing the audience, and the inside plexiglass walls smeared with fresh
piles of sludgy feces (which is an improvement because last time we were here
the gorilla had a huge pile of crap in its hand and then ate the whole thing
like it was a giant turd Yodel). The
best part is that the poop is smooshed in such a way that the gorilla's finger
marks are still visible, and the poop is obviously thrown at kid-face
height.
We work our way back to the car, strategically parked not
only directly opposite of the exit but also facing the street, you know, in
case the cops have finally found us and we need to make that rapid getaway we
talked about earlier because I would've murdered that absolute hose-bag who
tried to cut in line. If only I ran the zoo,
people like that nasty woman would be in cages, too, and everyone would get a
free cow pie to toss at her, even the animals and especially the gorilla
because he has excellent aim. So here's
to that woman; here's my shortened version of Dr. Seuss's If I Ran the Zoo:
Ladies and gents, if I ran the zoo
I'd only let nice people in, just like you.
And all of the nasty, uptight VIPs
Would find themselves vaulted to limbs in the trees
While bruises did cover their norths and their souths,
And my fist would quiet their ignorant mouths.
We'd be nice to animals simply because
They're hairy or feathered or covered with fuzz,
And if they got out, they'd eat us, you know,
Or go to the bus stop, just like that ape Joe.
But best of all, kiddies, if I ran the zoo
Everyone gets a handful of pooh
So when someone's rude, cutting lines or that bit,
We all get to throw and we smear them with shit.
Like that bitch who did try to cut in the line -
She'd be the recipient of that pile of mine.
I'd sure get arrested and never forget her
But I know that it would make me feel better.
Last but not least, if the zoo I did run,
I'd shoot politicians with my tranquilizer gun.
THE END
