The Stepford Zoom

We went to the zoo this morning. Shut up. It's better cardio than a treadmill and I have to start somewhere.

There's a strange kind of warfare just outside the LA Zoo entrance at opening time. Hordes of expensively-dressed women in their 20s and 30s wage vicious battle. Their weapon of choice: a baby stroller.

Seriously.

They all wear ultra fancy-shmancy workout togs. They all look angry, and they all push baby strollers.

(Usually the strollers are carrying a child well old enough to walk on its own, who should probably be in school on a Thursday. Very few actually contain babies. But I digress.)

The first thing that happens before you even get to the gate is that the soldiers jockey for position. They don't run, that would be obvious. Instead they all use the same ersatz nonchalant speed-walk combined with a virtuoso sideways shove of the stroller to edge ahead of the competition.

It's the uniformity that gets me. When I say "they all" it's because there are dozens of them and they really do all wear the same kind of pricey workout clothes and move the same way and have the same facial expression. This happens whenever we go, and it's not the same ones either. A fresh batch comes out of the factory every time.

One practically knocked me down this morning, but dammit, she achieved her goal. Good for her. We conceded our position. She got in ahead of us. She won.

Next, they go to Part Two of the battle plan. After racing to get through the gate first as if there's a prize waiting, BAM!

Once inside, they spread out and slow down. What was pushing is now blockage.

(Make your own colon joke. I'm nearly done and can't bother.)

We had to dodge and jink and weave to get past the gaggles of twos and threes and the occasional one with a phone, who position themselves with diabolical precision to stop anyone else from actually moving in a forward direction.

Still, I suppose they're attractive enough. Take note, if you're ISO something like that.