Zoo Fail

On a cold and windy Chicago evening in December, 2009, Jim and I met each other after work outside of the Lincoln Park Zoo.  We were going to enjoy Zoolights, that annual Christmas light spectacle that seems to get even better year after year, the zoo emblazoned in millions and millions of Christmas lights, with ice carvers, hot cocoa, and Santa.

Instead, on that night we found ourselves standing at the black iron gates which were shuttered with a metal slap of finality.  Everything was pitch black.  And cold.  Did I mention it was cold?  "Damn..." we exhaled, our breaths melting into our heavy scarves.  "It's closed."  With a disappointed shrug, we turned and slunked to a restaurant.  "Why didn't we check the website?" we asked ourselves while slurping up noodles, "it must only be opened on weekends this early in the season."

I had completely forgotten about that evening.  But I remembered tonight, as we met at the Lincoln Park Zoo and stared at the black iron bars closed upon the even darker zoo behind them. 

"Crap...." we muttered, looking guiltily at the baby, bundled up in her stroller and wearing her ladybug zoo hat. 

At least we were not the only ones.  One poor Mom, pushing a small child in a stroller and holding the hand of a very impatient-appearing preschooler, slowed to a stop next to where we were standing. 

"It's closed?!" she looked at me in desperation.  "I had to run for the bus, get them all bundled up...oh my gosh how can it be closed?"  I then witnessed her trying to tell her son that the animals had all gone to sleep early tonight.  "I BET YOU TOLD THEM TO GO TO SLEEP!"  the son started to wail. 

I am thankful at these moments that we have a child who is of the age when explaining is not necessary.  Expectations do not have to be honored, at any point if Jim or I change our minds, we simply turn the stroller around with no argument.  Last weekend we took the train down to Macys on State Street, where, after glancing at their very, very disappointing window displays (which are usually so magical- what the hell, Macys?) we ventured inside to try to find Santa.  Ellie has not been to see Santa yet, and we were hopeful that this might have been her time to meet the big guy.  After roaming the first, seventh, and fifth floors, we finally found the line- nothing was signed, no Buddy the Elf was there to add any cheer, and after watching the parents who came out after seeing Santa (most rolling their eyes, most saying that it really wasn't worth the wait), we decided to call it a day and went home. 

So, in anticipation of the day when we will have a child who pitches a fit when we decide NOT to wait in Santa's line, this year, we will try again.  We will find Santa, somewhere....somewhere small and quaint and perhaps not in a department store.  And we will probably attempt Zoolights again, (checking that they're open before leaving the house), even though by the time the next weekend opportunity rolls around it may be freezing cold with a fierce wind coming off the lake and no available parking.

But we will try, damnit. 

And if we fail...well, at least this year, we won't have to hear about it the whole way home.