The London Zoo has started a "Human exhibit." Taking up space in a former bear enclosure, eight humans (three males and five females) are now spending their days under the watchful eye of those who cruise the zoo's primate walk.
It's an interesting profession when your neighbors are truly of a beastly, furry nature. Questions quickly fill up the mind:
What kind of qualifications would a person need to be accepted as a human, and what do you say to the applicants you turn down?
"Sorry Frank, but you're not really what we're looking for in a specimen. We wanted someone more... what is the word... human." (That's got to do wonders for the self esteem).
Some of the professions listed of the "humans" are "chemist" and "actor/model." That must make for interesting behind bars conversations.
"So what do you think about compounds, huh?" "Can you imagine living under the watchful eye of 'Big Brother' on TV? Anybody?"
At the end of the summer, do you think the "inmates" will list their experience on their resumes? Even more interesting, imagine being a keeper for one of the humans. How easy must your rounds be? After trying to figure out what's giving an alligator a tooth ache, all you have to do is poke your head in and ask 'Are all you humans okay? Great' and move on to the chimpanzees down the row.
When it comes time to look for a better job, would you pass on that piece of work experience on?
"So it says here that you've worked with gibbons, orangutans, chimps, red pandas, ostriches, emus, geese, alligators, gecko lizards, and humans. Humans?" "Yes sir, and they were the most temperamental of the lot, though there was an emu once who gave me a humdinger of a headache."
The exhibit's occupants are allowed to go home in the evenings (which prevents them from going fully feral - as interesting as it could be to those who study such things). I wonder if they ever bump into their so-called "keepers" In envisioning a regular end of the day, I am reminded of the old Warner Brother cartoons where they portrayed predator/prey relations as animals who clocked in everyday, did their thing, and could relate an amicable "Goodnight George," "Goodnight Sam," as they clocked out. I wonder how an end-of-day exchange might be like at the London Zoo
"Goodnight human. Nice fig leaf, by the way." "Goodnight keeper. Could you go easy on the bananas tomorrow? I prefer a light salad."
While this is something that sounds cool to try for a while, I'm not sure if I could hold up against the public scrutiny for the whole summer.
After a while, the hula hoops and balls provided for entertainment would start to get old. Also, I'm sure there are strict rules about NOT responding to any cat calls that come from the unavoidable hecklers - show me a man willing to sit in a bear encampment to promote raised awareness of men and apes and I'll show you a surly teenager willing to throw coke cans and insults at the would-be educators.
Additionally, the dress code leaves something to be desired. I prefer a casual dress, but the work "uniform" of cloth "fig leaves" draped on over swim suits rivals the inadvertent idiocy of drive-in restaurants that still require workers to wear roller skates (or at least you hope it's inadvertent idiocy, for otherwise it is quite deranged and cruel).
Of course, if one were to design a truly "natural habitat of the homo sapiens," having people "go native" amongst swimming pools and climbing ropes wouldn't be my choice.
I'd have a big-screen TV with satellite hook up at the center of my exhibit (as such accoutrements are in most homes). A computer with internet access would be located on the side. Couches and lounge chairs would be situated around the previously mentioned focal point of the room. A large refrigerator unit, while not necessary located in the midst of the enclosure, would be situated close by. A bookcase, while once taking up a featured place in earlier human households, would be replaced by a video game system or systems would also be featured, along with various movie and music playing accessories. The whole place would be air conditioned - and if I had my wish, an intricate squirt gun system would be remotely rigged to properly deal with any naysayers and smart mouths.
"Hey humans, haven't you seen Castaway? That's not Tom Hanks carved out an existence? Hey Dilbert! I'm talking to you! And furthermore...
SQUIRT!
"HEY!"
CLICK!
Did I not mention the video/photography equipment to record the incredulous looks at the punks are shocked by the impact of the "SupperSoakker 10 Million" (or whatever number they're up to now)? That would definitely be a part of my idealized natural habitat, as would additional jumbo monitors – situated near the exit of the exhibit – to further shame the now soggy delinquents on their way out.
Now if you will excuse me, I need to go back to my smaller, less public, human cage… where I reside for no money… Maybe I should give the London Zoo a call.
