Life is a zoo in a jungle

San Diego and I got off to a rocky start. I try not to bring it up often, but the truth is typically difficult to ignore. The good news is that it's been about 16 years since that initial encounter and well, time heals most things. My family and I were visiting San Diego for the weekend after my mom had scored some unbelievable deal on Southwest Airlines. On paper, San Diego was the perfect destination for a family with two children under the age of nine. We played at the beach; we visited Shamu and his friends at Sea World; and of course we blocked off an entire day to meander through the world famous San Diego Zoo.

The zoo is where this story begins. It was the 25th Anniversary of the zoo that year, so when we entered, my brother and I were both given a special edition souvenir passport book (to this day my dad would argue that the purpose of the passport was to ensure that my brother and I weren't mistaken for animals). As a child, I was absolutely obsessed with souvenirs like this (postcards, postal stamps, tour pamphlets, and such). Talk about the simple days. I couldn't have been more thrilled about having received this stack of folded, stapled paper.

The book had a page for each animal in the zoo. For each animal you visited, you received a stamp. I absolutely could not wait to take my book back to school to show my teacher all the animals I had seen.  Mrs. Bamburg is going to be so impressed at how many mammals I've seen! I thought to myself. We must have been doing a unit on mammals or something at school. Maybe she'll even let me do show and tell for the class (Yes, I was/am a nerd).

We started to make our way through the zoo and collect stamps. At about noon, we had been walking for three hours (our family vacations are rather intense) and decided to stop for a snack. We found a nice park bench under a shady tree and placed a bowl of chips and dip at the center of the table. As I reached across the table to scoop my first chip in the heap of guacamole, I felt a something warm and gooey pelt my arm. I shifted my gaze to see splattered bird shit. I looked directly above me only to be mooned by a bird on a branch.

Ewww!! Yuck! Gross. There's bird poo on me! Ewwww. I started to make a scene. We need to move now! How could you guys choose this stupid bench under a tree?! I accused. My parents knew I was upset because I had used a bad word (stupid).

Enraged, I forced everyone to get up, gather our food and belongings, and move to a nice bench in the middle of the plaza. Under the blazing sun. No trees. No birds. No shit.

We finished eating then recommenced our zoo-going. Two or three animals into our post-lunch expedition, I realized that my passport book was missing. Oh shoot! Where is my passport book!? Some immediate accusations and detective work pursued, at the end of which it was determined that the book was never moved from bird-shit table to bird-shitless table. I forced the family back to the plaza with the park benches, but of course, the passport was gone.

Of course it's gone! Someone probably stole it. It had almost all the pages stamped. Great! Now Mrs. Bamburg won't believe that I saw all the animals I complained. Instead of continuing through the park, I forced us back to the entrance to pick up a new passport book, then to retrace our steps so I could receive all the stamps I had gotten before (In hindsight, as I write this post, I'm actually shocked that my parents did not just leave me at the zoo on that fateful day. That's what I would have done, at least).

Anyway, we had a packed schedule, the park was closing, and we were unable to get all the stamps I had received before. And so, a very dejected young eight year old left San Diego the next day, with far too few stamps to do her zoo trip justice.

Of late, thanks mostly to technological advancement, there is a lot of data floating around. BIG DATA they call it, and it can be used for everything from targeted advertising to health care. And with enough data, companies and services can come to some pretty interesting conclusions about their customers. For example, a recent Berkeley research study found that an extra half-star rating on Yelp yields 19% more reservations for a restaurant.

The problem occurs, however, when we start obsessing over data. Because we can. Because it's available. We start to question everything, our intuition, the world that's right in front of us. In the case of my young self at the zoo, I was so caught up in tracking my experience with the stamps that I discounted the experience itself. I was convinced that my trip to the zoo was for naught because I had nothing to show for it.

I'm currently sitting in your typical Silicon Valley coffee shop, surrounded by people on computers. Except for one man who is doing a magic trick for the barista. Just think about your card. Focus on your card. Use your intuition. He just found her card. She's puzzled and equally excited and surprised. That's so cool! But she doesn't ask how he did it. She doesn't need an explanation. Sometimes, there is beauty in that willing suspension of disbelief. Sometimes, there is beauty in just appreciating the world for what it is. Sometimes.

Learning to appreciate your conviction, your gut feeling, and listen to it is one of the most important things you can do for yourself. When it comes to our life experiences, we are our strongest data point. If you can describe the animals you saw at the zoo, a stamped passport book is nothing but a prop. What's easy to forget (or hard to believe, if you're eight years old) is that lack of a stamp doesn't mean it didn't happen.

In case you're wondering, San Diego made it up to me over this past year. Probably because I stayed away from the zoo. Data shows that zoos don't work too well for me when in San Diego.