There’s a train that runs from Oakland to Australia. It’s in the rides area just outside the zoo, an immediate left after you get your reentry hand-stamp. It costs $6 per person.
The train is the only way to see the Australia exhibit, which is populated by wallabies, wallaroos (which are not a kangaroo-wallaby hybrid but more of an evolutionary step between the two), and a couple of troublesome emus.
Sometimes the train ride only takes 10 minutes. Sometimes it takes much longer. That’s because the emus wait by the gate that opens to let the train into their exhibit. Sometimes they wait directly on the tracks. That’s what a nine year old girl told me last time, anyway. So sometimes you just have to wait for a six-foot tall bird (that could kick you to death) to move on its own terms.
This used to make my kid antsy, especially at the end of a long day at the zoo. Traditionally, the train is the last thing we do before we go home. But now getting stuck on the train is just part of the routine.
On Sunday the train stopped where it always does, between Perimeter 1 and Perimeter 2, on the ridge overlooking the 580 freeway below and the airport in the distance. We sat there for a very long time, a longer delay than I’d ever previously experienced because, as we’d find out later, all three emus and a wallaroo were on the tracks.
My kid leaned into me, gazed up into my face with eyes that look just like mine, and said “It’s so beautiful here.” I grabbed his hand and squeezed. “Yes it is, baby.” And then the train lurched forward.