I’m spoiled. I’m not going to lie; I am spoiled and I
greatly appreciate this fact. Who spoils
me? My local vintners. Yup – the wine merchants within a four-mile
radius. They spoil me, and they are singularly responsible for my
hyper-critical attitude toward the zoo’s wine event.
Two friends and I attend Uncorked, the Franklin Park Zoo’s wine
tasting fundraiser. It costs a pretty
penny to go in -- $45, which, in the scheme of things, isn’t very much, but,
considering I am used to paying zippo for wine tastings, I have high
expectations.
I expect to get $45 worth of wine and food. I expect to see the baby gorilla and the two
new lions being touted all over the news.
I expect to learn something about the wines being offered. I expect a relaxed evening. I expect to have a blast with my two cohorts.
The only expectation that
is met and exceeded is the final one – I always have fun with my friends;
otherwise, they wouldn’t be able to tolerate me.
The rest of my expectations
are all wash-outs because I am spoiled.
I don’t expect to be handed
a glass goblet, as I am at the in-store tastings, but I certainly do not expect
to be handed a plastic bathroom cup, either.
For the price, the least thing the zoo can do is secure a bulk order of
cheapo plastic wine glasses. I mean,
this is supposed to be a semi-fancy affair, right? Nope, we are all standing there holding
glorified Dixie cups the size of pill cups the nurses hand off in the
hospitals.
The very first wine table,
right at the entrance, is run by a guy holding a sleeping toddler in his
arms. Uh, dude – NO CHILDREN
ALLOWED. None. Zero.
He tosses the still-asleep child from one shoulder to the other as he
attempts to pour wine, clearly annoyed that he has to be here. Hmmm.
The white Bordeaux is nice, though.
We are pleased when we come by a second time and see his table has been
deserted. Hopefully someone in charge
with half a brain told him that rules are rules and sent the guy packing. Hard to believe handing out wine samples is
more important than taking care of your kids, but I guess that’s just me.
By the time we get to the
other tables, lines are forming.
Lines! LINES! Never in my life at any wine tasting, whether
it be at a wine store or at a winery, never ever have I waited in lines. By the time we get to the front of the lines,
we are offered one, maybe two, mini-cups of wine. This may sound like a very Democratic way to
run things, but there are four problems with this method of wine delivery:
1. There is no progression from whites to reds
per table;
2. There isn’t any interaction between merchants
and guests (unless one is barely 21 and handing out one’s personal cell phone
number);
3. There is no chance to mingle and chat with
other guests in a “gather around the table” environment;
4. We spend the bulk of our evening in line
after line after line.
The biggest disappointment
of the night, though, is that most of the zoo has been cordoned off. Our donation doesn’t get us through the zoo
itself, which means we see a gorilla or two, but we do not see the baby
gorilla. Also, we see giraffes but no
zebras, even though they are supposed to share an enclosure. We see emus and kangaroos, but not the
ostrich nor the (beloved) wildebeests. Worst
of all, we are not allowed down to see the lions. We cannot even hear them, so we assume they’ve
been brought inside for the evening.
This is slightly annoying
to me since I clearly see zoo employees sitting around in the closed eating
areas, chatting away with each other, being paid to hang out. Would it kill the zoo to actually let the
people fundraising for their zoo to maybe see
the zoo? This just seems so logical and
perfect that I fail to understand any reasoning otherwise.
Still, my patience of all
other things runs thinnest as we circle back to the wine tasting. I just cannot understand making people wait in
line. There is no reason why several
people can’t be surrounding tables getting the spiel and samples. I find myself actually telling people in
front of me, “Okay, now move along. Move
along! MOVE ALONG!” I say this once to the people on my left, and
the poor young couple to my right move, instead. “No, not you,” I smile. “You’re fine.” Ugh.
Now my attitude ruins someone else’s evening.
All this complaining makes
it sound like I don’t have a good time.
Not true. I have a fine time, for
the most part. The food samples are
really good, especially the desserts. We
also manage to score a little bit of free bling. Seriously, I can be the most patient person I know.
I can sit at doctors’ offices for hours.
I can almost tolerate traffic. I
managed to sit and wait ninety minutes for my lunch order to be taken, then
wait another hour for it to be served (a cold sandwich) at a swanky venue a few
weeks ago. Didn’t bother me at all.
This, though, this tries
my patience. A wine tasting means customers
actually get to taste the wines…
especially PAYING customers.
On a positive note for me,
not so much for Franklin Park: I am saving myself a lot of money because I won’t
be going to any more fundraisers at the zoo.
Not the Wild Affair tasting, and not the coveted Brewfest. The wine tasting has “uncorked” my impatience
and, like a breath of a fine red wine, once it has been released into the wild,
there’s no taming it.
