I've never been much of a zoo person, mostly because trips to the zoo always remind me of hours in extreme heat equivalent to the Bataan Death March, being run over by strollers, acne-faced teen boys from Hugo, Oklahoma taunting poor animals in their thick accents and nightmares of being trapped in the dark, stuffy herpetarium.
But boy was I wrong. The zoo is a wonderful place.
I'd forgotten about Mold-A-Rama! Such joy in something so completely elementary and waxy and weird. How can this still exist!? Or, more to the point, how did this ever exist!?
I'm now the proud owner of an orange giraffe - my favorite animal at the zoo.
Walker bought me an ICEE! My parents never ever bought me anything at concession stands as a cardinal rule of my upbringing, so this felt like a real indulgence - even if it was a little foamy.
There was a hippo wallowing in mud.
A peacock with its beautiful feathers completely fanned out.
Hilarious seahorse and badger narration by Walker.
The black bear playing with the log.
The totally content lifestyles of otters and sea lions. Enviable really.
Tiny tigers with pretty eyes.
Flamingos stomping on one of their own to death - not kidding, it was traumatic.
And the gorillas going absolutely nuts over the incoming weather. One of them pressed itself against the window after a couple of somersaults and gave me the "Rock On" sign - not even kidding.
...it was about this time that we decided to take the hint and head home - we beat the apocalyptic hail storm by three minutes. Just enough time to slide my car in the garage, pop popcorn and experience one of the craziest things I've ever seen. It was literally raining golf balls, leaving a trail of ruined cars and broken windows in its wake.
So, in conclusion, nature is spellbinding.
