Five hours of walking and five continents / exhibit sections later, a trip to the zoo seems like one of those “It seemed like a good idea at the time…” type of stories. My mom, sister, nephew and I had a good, but exhausting time. There was no skimping; ALL ANIMALS WERE VIEWED. We were there to get our money’s worth of animals and people watching as well. The fact that it was “Franklin County Wednesday” (county residents with i.d. can get in for half price) probably helped increase the level of “Holy shit! Did you see that?” variety of humans in attendance.
Things I experienced at the zoo…that were not necessarily part of the admission price.
“Holy shit! Did you see that?” -Thousands of people who were not height-weight proportionate and/or who presumably do not own mirrors or understand how their reflective surfaces are supposed to work.
3 bunnies- One of which was in the kangaroo enclosure. Consensus was because it hopped as well.
15 chipmunks- Solid zoo animal sighting especially in the North America section.
Bathing suits-I realize that our zoo connects to a water park, but they really are two separate facilities. Walking around all day in a bikini under a skimpy cover up which does not actually qualify as official “clothing” is a visual horror show for bystanders and a potential yeast infection for the wearer. I would rather view the Polar bear’s vagina again than the number of fat rolls and unsupported boobs that were tramping around the animal exhibits.
Tattoos- I like tattoos. I have three of them which according to my mom qualifies me to be either a sailor or a whore. Her point is that I don’t own a boat. My tastes lean more towards tattoos with colors, flowers, birds, girlie shit like that rather than oddly spelled names and blue-ish black “tribal” designs. (I may be a whore but you’re not in a fucking tribe, dude.) The exposed ink at the zoo was stunning. There was so much that it makes me think there may have been an additional discount for “bad decisions you are choosing to display.” Of course, that would also qualify several of the bathing suit wearers. Our family favorite tattoos were the name “Cassy” largely written on the middle back of a calf and the chest tattoo framing some boobs complete with a chest piercing right in the middle. How does that even work?
A polar bear’s bits and pieces– Someone needs to tell the polar bears that if they sit on the glass roof of the underwater viewing platform, they are leaving no surprises for anyone. Some smart ass kid who clearly watches too much TV kept saying, “Hey, do you think that bear uses Charmin? Hey, do you think that bear uses Charmin? Hey, do you think that bear uses Charmin? Hey, do you think that bear uses Charmin?” Since no one punched him, I can only assume his parents had abandoned him.
$3 bottled water- My sister said that she had plenty of snacks and drinks for all of us. By drinks she meant orange juice and something that said it was lemon-lime but was more likely bottled urine. By Australia, my mom and I were willing to feed the machine $3 for a 20 ounce bottle of water. But like any other dehydration fueled hallucination, the machine only mocked us and refused to take our money. By “The Congo” I broke down and drank the urine.
Lack of info on snakes- For the price of admission, I DO want to know which snakes in the Reptile House are poisonous and just how poisonous they are. I’ve always found that information interesting and useful. However on this trip I noticed that the signs only give habitat location, level of endangered to common and some random Fun Fact that won’t help when I’m faced with a nest of Copperheads or Scrub Pythons (Fun Fact: largest snake in Australia, they enjoy water and long slithers on the beach). Is this an attempt to make snakes “cuter” so we won’t kill them with shovels? Gloss over the fact that some of them can kill either by biting or giving hugs? Appeal to those visitors who already feel that they are invincible? It’s not working.
Despite the note that the Timber Rattler-Fun Fact!- is protected under law in Ohio, my mother still vows to kill one if it tries to get cute with her.
Matching t-shirts/ ensembles- Ok, matching t-shirts make sense if you are trying to guide over a dozen elementary school aged kids around a large area. We spent a lot of time trying to beat the purple group or the red group before a particular exhibit was overwhelmed with manic children. However beyond an attempt at tour group cohesion, matching ensembles aren’t doing anyone any favors. My sister’s favorite was the mother-daughter duo with matching shortie shorts “being eaten by their jumbly cottage cheese thighs”, topping the ensembles were tiny hot pink tank tops with exposed muffin tops.
Stellar parenting- Overheard as a fine representative of the Petri dish of humanity notices the daycare groups in matching t-shirts.
“Hmmmm, I ain’t gonna drop my children off to be watched just sos (I’m not even sure how to spell this for the dialect choices. Sounds like “sews.”) strangers kin take them ta the zoo.”
Bubba or Sissy then inquired as to whether or not some of their relatives qualified as strangers.
“Yer grandparents and yer aunt ain’t no strangers! Gaaaahhhh!”
Shorts eating crotches- Some crotches are hungry. Not so much for love, but for shorts. I personally do not enjoy digging clothing out of my vagina nor do I enjoy walking about with wadded up fabric jammed into my nether regions which may be why I gave up on maxi pads some time back in junior high. At the zoo, I was in the minority. YOUR SHORTS DON’T FIT CORRECTLY IF THE MOTION OF YOUR THIGHS IS CAUSING YOUR VAGINAL CANAL TO CREATE A SUCTIONING FORCE EQUAL TO AN INCH OF FABRIC PER EVERY WADDLING STEP! YOU ARE NOW A BAD PHYSICS PROBLEM.
Meth addicts- I think only a certain level of meth addict is sanctioned to be so bony, and skinny and wear cut off jean shorts in public.
Beavers- I saw two beavers snuggling. Dirty joke or actual animal moment? You decide.
P.S. Dear Jack Hanna, I propose an “adults only” day at the zoo with mojito carts at every continent. It would be an awesome place if it weren’t for all the fucking kids and their ratty parents.
P.P.S. I don’t consider myself to be height-weight proportionate, but I do own a variety or mirrors, have the good sense to use them and understand that a bathing suit is only day wear if you are on a beach.