The life and times of an irrational father. One man, multiple personalities.
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The Gearhart family – sans Delilah, who was reluctantly left in the kennel – went to Canada last Thursday. One of Sarah’s cousins was getting married up there (a cousin whom Sarah was very close to as a child) on Saturday, and only a zombie apocalypse would have been able to keep her away. We arrived around 1am on Friday morning and with the entire day free, we wanted to do something touristy. 

We decided to go to the Toronto Zoo. I doubt Tyler would have enjoyed going on a wine tasting tour, being underage and all, and he’s not tall enough to ride the roller coasters at the amusement park, so it was a no-brainer. I flipped to the back page of the tourist’s guide to the foldout map. The Toronto Zoo wasn’t on it. Confused as to why a tourism guide would list a place of interest but not mark its location on the included map, I walked to the Blazer so I could bring it up on the GPS. I was completely unaware of where we were, in relation to the zoo, and wanted to make sure we weren’t looking at a two hour drive. I read the button names aloud as I pressed them on the touch screen.

"Go to. Point of interest. Near my current location. Categories. Zoo. Search."

The GPS then listed a number of zoos, ordered by their distance from where I was. The first result… The DETROIT ZOO! This left me even more flummoxed than its omission from the tourist guide. I looked to my left and spotted my father-in-law. He had a giant map sprawled across the trunk of his Fiat. He was able to locate the zoo in mere seconds.

He told me, "I hear you could spend an entire day there and still not see everything."

I asked what he and the missus had planned for the day, to which he replied, "We’re driving to Snowball, Ontario."

"Why?"

"Cuz I’ve never been there before."

That’s as good a reason as any, as far as I was concerned. Finally able to get an address programmed into the GPS, Sarah, Tyler and myself began the 33 mile 54km drive. I don’t know any other way to describe the route that the GPS took us on other than to just quote Sarah.

"Are we driving to Deliverance?"

At the mercy of the electronic equivalent of an old man, sitting on his chair with a piece of grass hanging from his mouth, telling us to "…turn right at the old Sunoco station, drive for, oh say, two miles or so, until you see the broken down John Deere. Keep goin’ a little while longer and hang a Louie at Mr. Krenshaw’s dairy farm," we had no option other than to just trust it would get us to our destination. After many twisting roads and two bridges that could only support the weight of one vehicle at a time – No Trucks, the sign read – and was only wide enough for one vehicle (seriously), we did eventually get to the zoo.

Here’s some things you really need to know before you continue reading.
1) This was a Friday
2) It was beautiful out. 64ºf (18ºc)
3) Many school buses were there (field trip)
4) There were hundreds of parents with strollers
5) There were at least three people in wheelchairs that I physically saw

The first sign I read at the zoo – aside from the one that signified that we were parked in the "E Elephant" section – said that children under three were admitted for free. That brightened my day until I saw that adult admission was $21 each. Oh, and $8 for parking. I don’t want to hear the crap about CAN to US conversion, and how it was actually cheaper. Fifty bucks to see a bunch of animals that I can easily see in HD on the Discovery Channel? Shoulda went wine tasting.

The zoo was split into regions. They included a Canadian animal exhibit, Americas, Eurasia, Africa, and a couple others. It seemed that most of what we saw in Eurasia, aside from a camel, were fish, birds and snakes. I was pretty disappointed with it.

Then we saw a children’s zoo area! And they had a shark there! Oh, but guess what? You have to pay extra to go in there. Looking at the cartoonish map of the zoo that they hand out at the entrance, I told Sarah that there was still plenty to see and we wouldn’t miss out by skipping this area.

Next up, the Americas. We went in the pavilion first and looked at a couple turtles, more fish and more birds. when we circled around and left the building, we were excited to go see the flamingo exhibit and the rest, including a POLAR BEAR! Oh, but guess what? With the exception of the pavilion we just left, the entire Americas exhibit was closed for remodeling. Instead of animals, we saw a bulldozer, people shoveling mulch and yellow tape blocking our path.

 
More than a little disappointed, we continued to the Canadian animals exhibits. We were immediately greeted with a red sign.


So let me get this straight. The zoo recommends that parents not take their unable-to-walk-on-their-own children to all the exhibits down there? There were, honestly, hundreds of strollers at the zoo. Yeah, and the handicapped are SOL also. And, if you do walk down there, you must realize that the people who designed this area are idiots. Instead of making it into a circle, you must walk all the way down, admiring all the exhibits, until you reach the main attraction… the moose exhibit, then you have to turn around and walk all the way back, past everything that you’ve already seen!

Spitting in the face of the warning (figuratively), we made our way down the steep grade, which was no simple task. On the way down, a guy looked directly at us and said, "Don’t bother. They’re either all sleeping or not there."

Thinking that it couldn’t possibly be true, we continued our perilous journey.

Here’s the raccoon exhibit. No raccoons.

Here’s the owl exhibit. No owls.

Here’s the bald eagle exhibit. You can barely see the tail.

Here’s the moose exhibit. No moose.

Here’s the crane exhibit. No crane.

Here’s a picture of people that paid extra for a guided tour to not see the same stuff we didn’t see.

I commented to Sarah, "Your dad was right, you know."

"How’s that?"

"We could spend an entire day here and still not see everything."

Her reply was loud, infectious laughter, and it went a long way towards boosting my spirits.

Here’s where it gets even funnier (in a sad way). The zoo started making excuses.


But wait, it gets better. Since we can’t see real animals, the zoo planted some fake ones. 


Then we saw something that was quite rare… A group of people huddled around an area.


Monkeys! Tyler LOVES monkeys! These pictures do no justice because you can’t see the humongous grin on his face.



Our legs and feet ached as we walked through the parking lot, past A Alligator, B Bear, C Crane (no, I didn’t see crane, thankyouverymuch), and D Duck. Back in the Blazer, I told the GPS to take us back to the Bed and Breakfast. I kept the camera up front so that I could take pictures of the crazy route it took us on. Except, the GPS told us to turn right, instead of left. Less than a quarter mile later, we were on the expressway and on a direct route to our room. What?!

If you want to look at all the zoo pictures, start here.

Typing Monkeys

December 1st, 2008 | Posted by Joe in like father like son | monkey boy | Tyler - (4 Comments)
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If I ever had any doubt on whether Tyler is of my own flesh and blood, that doubt disappeared when I saw him make a foot-fist.

There are a few things that, I think, differentiate me from most (normal) people. One, I can not comfortably sit in a chair, unless one leg is under my “bottom” or unless I’m sitting “Indian style” on it. Sitting normal, with both feet on the ground, is very uncomfortable for me.

Another thing I do is curl my toes, all the time. It looks like I’m making a fist with my foot. I’m doing so right now, as a matter of fact. I’ve done this for as long as I can remember, and it wouldn’t surprise me to find out that my mom or dad does this as well. I also cross my big toe over my second toe, on both feet, quite often; much like crossing your fingers when you make a promise that you have no intention of keeping.

And, for the hat trick in foot contortionism, I can pick many things up with my feet. TV remotes, keys, baby toys, dog toys, and even tennis balls must bow to the will of my podiatric grip. Someone in the house finds this to be quite disturbing slash disgusting, while I see it as the next step in evolution. We’re only a few decades away from having children that are born with opposable big-toes, just like our primate brethren. It’s a scientific fact, but I don’t have any scientific proof to back that claim.

Now, don’t go thinking that my monkey-feet are freakish and nasty looking. They look just like the feet on your average man. The possibility even exists that everyone can do these tricks, and I’m not unique at all. I haven’t asked around, so we’ll leave it at me thinking I’m unique.

The joy I felt when I saw Tyler make his first foot fist was not echoed with Sarah. Instead, she directed a stare at me that I characterize as accusatory and contemptuous. If that wasn’t enough, she telepathically sent a thought that roared in my head, “You did this to him. You did this to my baby boy!!”

A day or two later, I was tickling Tyler’s feet with his toy keys. He’s not yet laughing when I tickle him, but he smiles. And, while hearing Tyler laugh is currently one of my most favorite things, I’m quite happy to see and elicit a smile from this big little man. All of a sudden, as I was running the plastic key ring across the bottom of his foot, he grabbed the keys. WITH HIS FOOT!


Monkey feet

My little monkey baby truly is his father’s son. And speaking of monkeys…

The “Infinite Monkey Theorem” has been phrased many ways, so forgive me if this isn’t how you remember it. I almost had a brain orgasm when I read about it on Wikipedia while preparing for this post. There’s so much to think about with statistics and probabilities that it’s hard for the mind to comprehend.

If an infinite number of monkeys randomly pressed keys on an infinite number of typewriters, for an infinite amount of time, eventually, one of them will type the entire works of Shakespeare.

This is a statement which I’ve always believed to be true. As a man that is marveled by science and math, I understood that it is a statistical certainty that, eventually, one of the monkeys would rip a sheet out of the typewriter, start flinging his own poo at the other monkeys, and proudly proclaim that he has finally done it. He has finished writing Hamlet. But, what happened a couple days ago has me questioning my own beliefs.

I had a computer hard drive crash on Thanksgiving. After I got everything back up and running again, I had to manually rebuild some catalog files. Tyler was sitting on my lap while I madly typed up a new index and hash codes and other things that I’m sure you don’t care about. Tyler decided that he would like to have a go at the keyboard. While I was happy that Tyler offered to help me, I had no intention of turning him loose on my code. Instead, I opened up Notepad and rolled Tyler within reach of the keyboard.

Giving Tyler the green light, I said, “Okay, infinite monkey, let’s see what you’ve got.”

He did not impress me with his typing abilities. He was all over the place. He wouldn’t keep his fingers on the home keys, he kept hitting the windows button, and somehow managed to open up Powerpoint. Here’s his final screen output:

zvgbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbb                                                                      5768\\\\\\\\\\\\\

\\\\\\\\\\\aaaaaaaaassssss
fswwwwbr0jq8rnbj4iidqfz88foydhgp3jeb86aoq aqqqqqqqqqqqqqqqqqqqqqqq

Click to view the proof larger

Click the image to view the proof, in all it’s glory

If you were to spend any time actually looking at the above, you may have noticed that there’s a fairly long run of letters that aren’t repeated, like “ssssssssssss” from Tyler just holding one key down for three seconds. Under normal circumstances, I’d find that to be rather impressive. I mean, it’s certainly not of the literary caliber of MacBeth, but it’s still pretty neat.

Don’t go getting Tyler’s name engraved on on the Nobel Prize in Literature just yet. That little string of text just happens to be one of my hash codes. I saved it to the clipboard while I was rebuilding the index, and Tyler happened to press CTRL-V to paste it into his literary masterpiece. What I’m getting at is this: Tyler is a fraud. I do not condone plagiarism, especially when it is my own son who has plagiarized my hard work.

Based on the rest of his output, I have now determined that the “Infinite Monkey Theorem” is a falsity. How could I possibly believe it after seeing the character-stringing mess that Tyler created? Once again, I have little to no scientific proof to back this up. After all, Tyler is not a monkey, but he’s pretty close. He can grab things with his feet. And, left to his own devices, I have no doubts that he would fling his own poo all over the place.


I say he has monkey feet, like his father. But then I see this, and think that maybe “elephant feet” describes it better