Tuesday, my girl and I went to the zoo.
We had decided a few weeks ago that we needed a fun day when the two of us could go somewhere new, enjoy each other’s company, and just relax. Our lives are very involved. Mine is a magnet for bad things. I seem to draw negative situations to myself as if my karma was dripping with shit and corpses. Hers is regrettably linked to mine, so she has to ride alongside me down this potholed road to hell. So, we needed a vacation.
I had spring break from my college classes this week, and I don’t work on Tuesdays anyway, so she requested that day off from her job awhile ago. When the day was approaching, we were giddy with excitement. The morning of our day adventure, we bounced around the house like children on Christmas morning. I got the camera ready, she prettied herself (which is unnecessary) and we raced to the car around 10:30 or so. Other than an initial stop for gas, we went straight to the zoo.
It was in San Francisco, which is about 47 miles from us, so we had a nice drive up highway 280. The scenery is much better than the other local highways that lead north, and the traffic is thinner, with nicer cars full of older people. Granted, anywhere you go in the Bay Area is bound to present you with idiot drivers doing a myriad of unsafe maneuvers, but we had a relatively smooth trip.
We gossiped about family members and coworkers, chatted about upcoming events like getting married and having kids, and just basked in the warmth we felt for each other. I love her, and anytime I’m even near her, things are more fun.
As we drove down the street the zoo is on, we had the choice of parking in spots along the side of the road, or pulling into the parking lot of the zoo. The zoo’s lot was sort of gated, but you had to pay six dollars, and it was only marginally closer than the free parking of the street. She said we should just pay the money, but my stupid cheapness persuaded her to park along the median where a few dozen parking spaces were empty. The only cars there were luxury sedans, or crossover SUV’s likely owned by the owners of the many stores up and down the road. So, we parked, armed the car alarm, and virtually scampered to the zoo entrance.
The entrance fee is $11 per person, with no discount for students. We paid, and got two tickets and a big map of the zoo’s many exhibits. It was a weekday when most schools were still in session, and most adults were toiling away at any number of mind numbing jobs. Not us, though, we were at the zoo!
We saw lions, a tiger, and bears. Several bears, in fact. There was a black bear that moseyed about his pen, a few polar bears that were intensely preoccupied with a flock of sea gulls that incessantly flew back and forth over their enclosure. I think the birds were taunting them. It was so cute to watch them walk around, every few seconds looking up intently at a bird. I could have sworn I saw them lick their lips.
We also saw giraffes, which stink far more than I ever would’ve thought they could. There were several kinds of monkey, all of whom loved to stick their butts in the air at the audience while their companions picked insects from the fur around (and occasionally in) their bald little asses. There were also some lemurs that initially seemed drugged.
When we approached their cage, every one of them was lounging motionless in the shadows, despite the fact that it was chilly even in the sun. Eventually, as we made our way around the large environment they lived in, we noticed that some began to move. They gradually congregated near a subtle door that was made to blend in with the rest of the walls. One lemur plopped himself against the door, and when others came close, he emitted the most bizarre, shockingly loud call. Almost instantly, the others would echo his call until every lemur in the tri-state area was screeching to high hell.
Then it was time for lunch. I had hoped we could eat before the zoo, but both of us were too anxious to see the animals to stop anywhere. When we stepped up to the counter in the Leaping Lemur Cafe, I let out my own shocking screech. The prices, which I expected to be above the actual value of the food, were absolutely insane. For a cold, grey, pasty cheeseburger, a small soda, and some reasonably tasty but cold garlic fries, we paid $16. This is outrageous to me, but I paid it because I like making her happy, and she isn’t happy in any sense of the word if I make her go hungry too long.
I admit that the fries were yummy, and the soda was perfectly mixed, but the burger was dreadful. We shared it all because I refused to order food for myself, and she refused to let me go hungry.
While we ate our sad little meal, we watch this sea gull harass the families who decided to eat outside. The bird would follow one as it walked by, or stand impatiently waiting for one to finish their meal and leave. It would stand at the window by our table, staring hungrily at our food - it must not have known how bad the burger was. I sat there, watching the silly sea gull, and trying to get over my frustration over the money. To her credit, my girl, like usual, made the best of things, and refused to let me grumble about it for long.
We finished lunch, and walked out to watch a pond of pink flamingos fight and bicker with each other. Then it was on to the koalas and kangaroos. The first one is my girl’s favorite animal, and NOT A BEAR, as a bold sign insisted near their area. I wonder if the koalas complained to management after too many, “Look mommy, it’s a koala bear!”
The koalas were amazing; I’ve never seen an animal that could be invisible till that day. Actually, well, duh, if it’s an invisible animal, i wouldn’t be able to see it, regardless of what it was. Nevermind.
The kangaroos were definitely more visible, but lazy as hell. One young kanga was nibbling on some grass, and occasionally looking up at me as I obnoxiously repeated the word kangaroo over and over in some misguided belief that identifying him continuously would make the poor thing entertain me with a song or dance. The others, though, did nothing at all. They laid there in the grass, motionless enough to be confused with rocks. One big adult did actually get up, scratch himself a few times, then collapse into the same depression he had made. That is meant both literally and figuratively.
Eager for an animal that could put on a show, we went and looked at the otters. They’re always playful and curious, Tuesday was no different. They immediately swam up to where we stood behind a glass wall. They’re so adorable, and I tried countless times to shoot pictures through the glass, but only a handful came out respectably.
There were so many other animals that day: turtles, snakes, a billion screeching dive-bombing birds, the world’s cutest prairie dogs and meerkats, penguins who seemed stoned beyond belief, a rhinoceros that kept slamming its head against the door, and the creatures in the petting zoo.
If I had to compare these animals to anything, I’d say they were like a gold-digging whore who loves you longtime until your company goes under and you can’t buy her collagen treatments every month. These are the most greedy, self-absorbed, manipulative animals ever. The sheep would come up to us with this sweet, innocent smile in their eyes, as if they didn’t mean to escape from little Bo Peep, it was all a big misunderstanding. Then they would gently sniff your hand, outstretched in a gesture of friendship and greeting.
Then they would turn and trot away when it was found that you had no food. I was very hurt by this.
There were goats in that area too, and some really noisy pigs, a pair of friendly but sad donkeys, and some horses that scared me shitless. I hate horses. I don’t know why.
I’m sure I forgot some animals that day, but we went everywhere in the zoo, and spent about 6 hours there. It was the most fun I’ve had in a long time - except for some other things we do that I refuse to write about here. With the obligatory visit to the souvenir shop done, we walked back through the gates of the zoo, arm in arm and smiling to each other. We crossed the street and walked down a block to our car. Then my girl hit the button that disarms the alarm and unlocks the doors.
We heard, beep, beep, beep, beep. That is very bad. There should only be two beeps.
Knowing that four means someone tried to open the car while we were gone, we frantically hurried to the car. Then we saw it. Well, it’s what we didn’t see that was the real problem. We didn’t see a driver’s side window. We did, however, see a pile of glass on the ground, and another all over the inside of the car.
Some dirty bastard cocksucker broke into our car. I was furious.
We quickly took stock of what was there, and amazingly nothing was stolen. Except our sense of happiness, and the illusion of safety that a car alarm brings. I called the cops who said they weren’t coming to take a look, fill out a report, take fingerprints or just generally give a damn. As a consolation prize, though, the dispatcher said I could go home in my windowless car and fill out an online report. Ooh, I bet those are jumped all over by the doughnut eating pigs in San Francisco.
It was a cold, frustrated drive home, and when we got there, I had to cut out a window shaped piece of cardboard to use as a slight protection from the elements until we could get a new glass one. Because of the crazy people in our neighborhood, I didn’t feel at all comfortable leaving our car sitting in its carport on the other side of our complex. So, the girl parked it by our window, and I stayed up all night watching for anyone who might even look at the car in an impure way. No one did, and the next day I took the car to my mechanic, who fixed it swiftly and cheaply.
On the drive home, I thought, “Fuck them. Fuck everyone - I had a blast at the zoo.”
