Writing Prompt #1

I always knew I hated the zoo, but I didn't know why. I've been going to the damn things coast-to-coast for nearly three decades and they're all the same: no matter the weather, it's uncomfortable, typically sweltering, and devoid of shade when it's not a miserable soaker out; costs are less than affordable, yet continually rising; the food sucks; and the facilities and exhibits just don't spark a yearning for future visits. Yet, no matter the city or season, I still return.

     For years I supposed the ventures were urged by an awe that draped around me when I witnessed such foreign natural wonders up close. In fact, these thoughts are what steered me toward that biology major I shot for on my first go-around in college, realizing midway through freshman year that that wasn't the case, though. A decade and nothing to show for it later, I've finally figured out what it is that keeps dragging me back, and I guess that original awe that pawed at me so many years before wasn’t all that far off after all.

     My great epiphany: it’s the people! These people, they're so unlike me in all ways but shape, but I manage to keep to myself, watch curiously, and blend in for a short while. They are creatures so seemingly similar to me - all of us there for what would be reasonably assumed by most as the same reason - but I know this not to be quite the case. They are most assuredly there to enjoy what is truly foreign to them, but only in reference to the animals and plants from places far enough away to be thought other-worldly in their minds. I'm there, however, to walk amongst a mix of the people with which I do not share commonality; foreigners to some extent as well, I guess.

     It's just that when I visit the zoo, I attack it at a different slant. Who gives a shit what's on the other side of the fence? Look at this thing standing right here!, rubbing elbows with me, flashing that shit-eating grin every time that kid of theirs does something, anything. But, while my experience is indeed altered from that of the rest, it thrills me on some level to recognize that there’s a tangency, an unspoken, albeit slight, solidarity, between us: the idea that we're all gaining something personal from throwing ourselves into that which we are most unfamiliar.