At the Zoo
At the zoo you can witness the finest of creations: giant anteaters, miniature zebus, well-stocked snack bars. “Destination Zoos” like the one in Omaha or the Berlin are grand, but my favorite are the scrappy ones that you might discover advertised on a billboard as you drive in a rental car from a regional airport to a Hampton Inn or Holiday Inn Express or wherever the corporate travel planner booked you. The admissions fee will be roughly the same cost as the fancy coffee drink you purchased on your way out of the airport, and a few bucks less than the cost of the nachos and slushie you can purchase inside the chain link border of the park.
Your phone’s voice assistant might tell you you’re making a wrong turn when you pull off the Interstate, but you’re not: life’s better at the zoo and your sales calls or corporate post-pandemic-lockdown butt-sniffing and self-congratulatory inclusivity retreat — or whatever— doesn’t start until tomorrow, anyways. Or even if that’s a lie, they can wait an hour as you dawdle at the zoo.
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