Creatures of night, brought to light: The Reptile Zoo in Monroe, WA

January 4, 2011 51 Comments read Attractions, Pacific, Travel, USA, Washington, West

On our trip to Leavenworth, we passed through Monroe, which I had always assumed was a town of little note. Not so! At one point, Evan looked over and gasped “Reptile zoo!” The two of us chorused louder than any child could manage from the backseat, “REPTILE ZOO!” and demanded that we stop and visit. Emily temporarily halted our pleading by suggesting that we could stop in on the return trip, a compromise to which we were both amenable. I looked up their website on my phone and discovered they had an albino alligator, whose name we decided would be “Chompy”. I further decided I wanted to ride him. Unfortunately, by the time we got back from Leavenworth, the Reptile Zoo was closed for the day, and I was a bit too tired to throw the mighty tantrum that sort of disappointment mandates. So, on New Year’s Eve, we made a special trip to the Reptile Zoo. I was so excited about this trip, I made up a special song and dance number entitled “Goin’ to the Reptile Zoo” which essentially looks like any of my other dances but involves the tuneless singing of “We…are…going to…THE REPTILE ZOO!” over the top, along with some fist-pumping.

After we finished fooling with the big snake carving out front, I noticed that there were signs everywhere about where one ought to deposit one’s gum. The Reptile Zoo, in fact, seemed more concerned about gum than all of my grade school teachers combined. What was the deal with the gum? Is gum inherently the anti-snake? Do iguanas seek out discarded gum when they want to blow bubbles but end up making a mess everywhere? Does someone loathe minty-fresh breath?

When we got inside and paid our entry fee, I asked the woman what was up with all the gum signs, because clearly there must be a big issue, right? Right? Someone died and gum was involved, right? Wrong. Apparently someone dropped some on the carpet once and it made a stain. I don’t know that carpet stains should be among their biggest concerns–after all, they’re sharing a room with the WORLD’S TEN DEADLIEST SNAKES!

…oh. Actually, devenomization is probably for the best. The owners are apparently a little blase when it comes to fang-based danger as some of the tanks had cracks in the glass or little holes that snakes were furiously poking at with their noses in an effort to wreak bitey havoc. Also, after the camel incident* and the tiger incident** and the goose incident*** and the seagull incident**** and the cat incidents*****…I am far better off when nearby animals are not only behind glass but also deweaponized as much as possible. Nearly all of the animals in open-top enclosures had signs indicating that they either might bite or will bite, and that sort of certainty keeps even me from putting my hands where they don’t belong.

^{Handwritten signs in marker only add to the feeling of danger. The only writing implement more dangerous-feeling is the crayon, because the crayon says you well and truly just do not give a fuck.}

Danger! Chompy! Escapees! And BBQ! ALL UNDER THE CUT.

Stuffed with Wiener Art

December 31, 2010 19 Comments read Attractions, Masticating With Mellzah, Pacific, Travel, USA, Washington, West

The day after Christmas, Tom, Emily, Evan, and I took a daytrip to Leavenworth, a tiny psuedo-Bavarian tourist-trap town nestled on the other side of the Cascade mountains. We spent the trip there singing loudly and obnoxiously–there may, in fact, be video evidence of us singing/screaming “Paradise City” by Guns N Roses. I was still running really low on sleep, but high on caffeine from the mega-gulp-size Americano I chugged on the way over. By the time we got to Leavenworth, I had to pee really, really, really, really badly. I had mentioned it at one point in the car, and Emily snipped at me to “Hold it!” so I dutifully held it and fantasized about blasting over the snow-and-ice-covered landscape like some sort of urine-stuffed jetpack anime nightmare, cackling wildly and leaving a trail of yellow snow in my wake. I never claimed that my fantasy world was a good place. Regardless, by the time we got there, I was getting pretty desperate to find a restroom, so we barged into the first store we came upon after we parked, begging to use their facilities. After my moments of blessed relief, I came to and realized I was in the tackiest place I’d ever been in over the course of my life, and this includes Tijuana. I didn’t realize this last time I’d been here, as everything was closed, but the knowledge that I was now entering Tackyville, USA, settled about my shoulders like a bedazzled cloak. It really struck me when I looked up at the wall and saw a truly terrible painting of a nude woman. It was clear from this painting that the artist wanted to solely paint some breasts, based on the way they were carefully rendered and lighted, but ultimately decided he needed to add the rest of the body as well, the aspects of which he was obviously less familiar as the face resembled nothing so much as a melted candle. Nearly everything in the store was tagged “I love junk”, so I suppose at least they don’t believe they’re getting anything over on the visitors.

^{I wonder what sort of “goods” they “sell” here?}

We hit the tacky tourism jackpot with a store dedicated solely to Christmas, which particularly specialized in a series of “life-size” elves ripped straight from my darkest nightmares. These elves did not grin jollily, they leered. They were not gesticulating merrily with their hands, they were groping. I’m certain their mouths were frozen in place while mouthing satanic curses. Their eyes follow you around the room, piercing you, letting you know they’re watching, always watching. I did not like these elves, and, in fact, wanted to set fire to the store in a bold act of heroism.

As I progressed through the store, flicking my bic, I discovered that just about anything can be turned Christmassy to turn a profit on this, the most profitable holiday of the year.

Really, nothing says Christmas like a fiber optic angel. Unless it’s a glittery boobed, hairy-chested army merman.

They also had a statuette of Santa praying over the baby Jesus’ manger, that moved and played music when you turned a key at the bottom. The problem was, the movement involved the baby Jesus’ cradle rocking back and forth into Santa’s lap in a terrible religious travesty blowjob.

^{Santa is always watching. Even from dark hallways, always watching}.

More tourist trap tackiness under the cut

A little nostalgia

August 26, 2010 15 Comments read Masticating With Mellzah, Travel

Ten years ago today, I left San Diego for Taipei, with layovers in Seattle and Tokyo. There are so many subjects that I never even touched upon. One of these years, maybe I’ll finish writing about it. Is there even any interest in hearing the rest of the stories?

It’s strange, the things you miss. Yes, I would love to go back and revisit the National Palace Museum and see festivals and check out temples, and of course I miss all of the wonderful exchange students (though they wouldn’t be there, should I return)…but the thing I’ve been actively craving for the last decade? Street food. Not even high-quality Taiwanese restaurant food, but street food. The spicy beef noodle soup I used to bring home in a clear plastic bag, the bubble tea, the long, rectangular crispy dumplings, candied haw, green onion pancakes, red bean-stuffed pancakes, EVERYTHING ON A STICK…the list goes on. Some things, like bubble tea, have taken off in the area and I can acquire them when the craving turns into a desperate need. Other things, I’ve been futilely trying to purchase or make myself ever since. Sadly, the closest thing I’ve found to the beef noodle soup is a frozen food version from the 99 Ranch Market–whenever I’ve spied something that might be right on a Chinese restaurant menu, the noodles have been wrong or the broth is wrong, and the tastebuds searching for that particular sensory memory are disappointed again.

I can hardly believe it’s been ten years. It doesn’t nearly feel that long ago! If it were more recent, I’d stand a chance of finding the instant noodle commercial that Beth and I were in on youtube…but sadly, ten years is a long time tech-wise. I don’t even know whom I might contact to try to get a copy for myself. As it stands, I don’t even know what the hell noodle company it WAS. But I still totally endorse their product. 100%!