I went to the zoo yesterday. I bought a pair of shoes last weekend that say, "I'm feminine, yet I still enjoy a good safari," so a trip to the zoo seemed like the perfect excuse to wear them.
I have this thing about throwing up in amusement parks, water parks, and zoos. To date, I have puked on Mickey Mouse, the deck of a wave pool, and in a trash can in the reptile house.
I remember the last time I went to the zoo because it was a swanky evening event. I had cocktails and little sausages while rubbing elbows with important people and watching the zookeepers feed the animals. I think that hors d'oeuvres at the zoo should be vegetarian, but that's not what made me puke. What made me puke was when I leaned in to kiss my date in the romantic darkness surrounded by snakes and lizards and accidentally kissed a local politician's Chief of Staff. I had spotted him earlier in the evening filling his pockets with little sausages wrapped up in paper napkins. I wanted to say something clever like, "is that a little sausage in your pocket..." but the combination of humiliation and chardonnay turned my stomach and instead I ralphed into a trash can. I like to think of that as a political statement. Needless to say, my date didn't offer to hold my hair out of my face as I vomited.
I was a little reluctant to go back to the zoo, but I really wanted to see the baby panda bear. I was also hoping that the monitors in the panda house would be streaming the panda porn that they showed the parents to encourage copulation.
For almost $20, I stood in the rain and looked at the animals who were smart enough to seek shelter. Every species of animal was standing facing away from the people who were dumb enough to brave the rain to see them. I spent most of the time indoors looking at monkey butts and people. I watched people take pictures through the glass and wondered why they don't keep people in the zoo. It was almost worth the $20 just to watch the people get excited when the monkeys crapped.
As I looked at the monkey's shiny bald behinds, I knew that it was time to go. It reminded me that it was Brazilian Day at a local college. The radio ads said that it was free. That's a great price for a Brazilian wax.
I don't know who was more surprised when I dropped my pants, the Brazilian Student Alliance or me.