Weekly Volcano Blogs: Walkie Talkie Blog

July 22, 2006 at 8:38am

Weekly Volcano hangs at Zoobilee

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ZoobillethreeZoobileetwoZoobileeone Possibly, I started things off slightly poorly by not confirming the start time for Zoobilee.  At 6 p.m., when the mate and I arrived at the parking lot â€" the whistlingly empty parking lot â€" we pulled out our tickets, read the start time, and quickly went to the place with, to our mind, the best noshies, ever: Six Olives, Sixth Ave, since we had roughly 90 minutes to kill slowly.  We had our dipping fries with wasabi aioli-fix, and went back to the point, to await our shuttle chariot (a school bus, air conditioned, thanks be to all omnipotent god-types.)
Crowds, lines, drinks, crowds, food, and a couple of drinks later, I could focus on The Event.  Music.  Happy people.  Fake boobs â€" lots of ‘em.  Happy dresses encasing the fake boobs.  Cool dresses, dresses I wanted. Turns out, Tacoma’s glitterati are kinda’ normal, really.  As the evening progressed, they walked less stably, they smiled more readily, and they smiled more warmly.
“Black tie” would seem a relative term to the boys at Zoobilee.  A bright smoking jacket, several kilts, shorts, Vans, flip flops.  As you went down the outfit, the “dress” deteriorated, if you were savvy. Women picked up on this â€" if they had read the invitation or attended previously â€" and shod themselves accordingly.
For those of us who hadn’t, or weren’t, we either started drinking heavily to alleviate the pain, or in my case, took off our shoes when appropriate.  In the case of some, shoes came off after imbibing heavily. 
So here’s the fun part.  The main stage, the one by the aquarium (was it called the dolphin stage? The shark stage? Or somesuch? Friend-boy mate-type took my program, so I don’t know) had a heeee-oooge dance floor.  Walking by it around 10 p.m., I went, mmph.  That has got to be the saddest dance floor I have EVER seen.  Couples stood around on it, looking awkward.  I think I heard the dance floor weeping.
At about 10:30, Hit Explosion grabbed the stage.  They were uh-MAZE ing.  Butts began moving, girls squealed and grabbed unwilling or willing mates, or unwilling or willing girlfriends, and people of all ages got their groove on.  I can’t say that in my life I have ever seen such a seething dance floor, ever.  And I was around when Drakes (the Drake?) was big.  I was at the Loft when it first opened, when those crowds hopped.  Nope â€" nada, no comparison. It was a neat-o mosquito moment, sans biting buggers.
It was a good night. (And I haven’t even mentioned the legend of the elephant walk, or the photo booths, or the weird performance art stuff.  Trust me, when I say it was groovy.  Or go buy tickets for next year!)
I must say, the zoo puts on a good party, and the partiers know how to appreciate it.
Viva la Zoo! â€" Jessica Corey-Butler

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