Hilary goes to the zoo … and writes about it

My first zoo story!

Hilary goes to the zoo

Going to the zoo alone is like going to a summer blockbuster alone.

There are the couples holding hands. There are families with small children. There are summer camps bringing kids because they’re desperate for something to do. There are even old people.

What you do not see, however, are 20-somethings alone.

Seriously, when I went to the zoo today to report on a story, I started wearing my press pass to  avoid the weird looks the other zoo-goers were giving me. I got a few, dressed in my professional attire of a black shirt and khaki pants in the 95-degree heat of the San Antonio Zoo.

My favorite zoo moments had nothing to do with my story. There were two: a summer camper not much out of toddlerhood who had been left out of a hand-holding lineup screaming hysterically, “I don’t have a hand partner!” and a mother walking into the zoo gates drenched in Chanel No. 5 perfume — again, on a 95-degree San Antonio day.

Today, for this reporter, the zoo was more about watching the people than the animals.

The honor of telling a story

I wrote my first obituary yesterday.

It’s rare in journalism that you get to write something without questioning people’s motives, without digging deeper to get to the dark lining of the silver cloud.

And sometimes, I think that’s good; cynicism, after all, does make journalism go ’round.

But once in a while, it’s nice to put aside the cynicism and tell the story of someone who was loved for the person she was: a great mother, a loving wife and a good friend.

So when I told the woman I talked to that it was an honor for me to write about her loved one, I was being sincere. There is no greater honor than to be trusted with the story of a life well-lived.

The Texas loop system: plague of a directionally challenged journalist

I get lost in malls.

Seriously. I will go out of a store and blithely walk the way I came for about 5 stores until I realize, “Wait, I’ve already seen all this.”

This, as you might be able to guess, presents a slight challenge to a reporter who is actually supposed to go out and report on things happening places that are not directly across the street.

So a week ago, I had to go to New Braunfels, which is about 45 minutes away from the newspaper offices, to report on a story.

First of all, the downtown exits are in weird places. And Mapquest is not helpful.

This is what it tells me to do:

“1: Start out going NORTHEAST on AVENUE E toward THIRD.”

OK. Look at this map. The little star is where my car is. So, I look around and see the sign for 3rd Street.

So I think, Oh, that must be where I’m going. I go around in two large circles before I finally try the other way. It takes me ten minutes to get out of downtown San Antonio.

Also, where I come from, aka Florida, aka PLANET EARTH, we have actual highways that go straight in one direction or another. San Antonio has what is called a “loop” system, with all kinds of crazy access roads and “loops.” (If you don’t understand, it’s OK. Neither do I.)

Actual loop system

There are “turnarounds” and yield signs and lots of other really confusing things.

Alternate view of loop system.

Somehow, I managed to make it to my location, which was in the midst of picturesque hay bales and barns.

I hate driving. I go home, where my mom tells me, “If you see something where the directions say, ‘Make a U-turn,’ just ignore it. Mapquest gets confused by the loop system.”

You and me both, Mapquest.

Reporting? Panic = lifesaver

I was sitting outside of a professor’s office about a month ago when I struck up a conversation with a girl who was also waiting.

Her name was Jenny. She was a sophomore majoring in public relations, and she’s taking reporting next semester.

Her question was one I’ve been asked before: “Is reporting as awful as everyone says?”

My answer was a qualified no. I said I enjoyed reporting, and if she liked writing and had a basic grasp of grammar, she should be OK.

But what I thought was the most important, I told her, was to let everything drive you: your frustration, your happiness, your anger and especially your panic.

I believe that’s most of what it takes to be a successful reporter. You have to learn to harness every emotion into getting something done. When you have a looming deadline or sources aren’t calling you back, it’s easy to just give up.

The trick is not to. And there’s no better feeling than making deadline by a few minutes.