In praise of the Saint Louis Zoo train

One in an occasional series of irreverent reviews designed to help people navigate St. Louis in all its quirky glory.

Throughout the 20-plus years that I have lived in this city, I have been accosted with the unsolicited claim that the Saint Louis Zoo is one of the best zoos in America. 

It stands arm in arm with another oft-repeated claim: that we also somehow have the best tasting drinking water, a substance which famously has no flavor outside of a few environmental factors, like how ours is sourced from a river full of trash barges and mud.

Both of these are claims I’ve heard in almost every major city I’ve ever been to, and if you don’t believe me, just Google any city name, plus the words “best water/zoo,” and you’ll find a 300-word article and/or Reddit post confirming this rampant geographical bias.

In the case of our zoo, what I will concede makes it notable and sets it apart from its nationwide competitors is its free admission, made possible, in part, by city and county taxpayers footing the bill for a sizable chunk of the zoo’s expenses. This means that when Gregory F. X. Daily sends you his yearly extortion letter claiming you owe the city $300 for the crime of owning a Honda Odyssey, a portion of that obviously sensible tax is being spent on free room and board for a bunch of Gentoo penguins, as well as hundreds of other animals that only live in this part of the world because we force them to (while the city somehow struggles to shelter the homeless human population that already lives here).

Now before you get mad at me for that last sentence, please know that I am pro-kidnapping and imprisoning all and any animals for human amusement and/or educational purposes and/or whatever else I’m supposed to say here that will stave off angry emails. I even have a paid zoo membership (true!), though admittedly not for the purpose of ensuring that the zoo has enough money to feed each one of its Asian elephants 300 pounds of hay every day.

You see, for reasons that are not entirely clear to me, my two little sons love trains. If you asked them if they loved trains more than they loved me, I bet they’d have to think about it for a second (and I’m not entirely sure what they would say), and the train that they absolutely love the most is the train at the St. Louis Zoo. They’d probably even say it’s one of the best zoo trains in the country!

Now there are a lot of train attractions in St. Louis geared toward little kids. Like, too many. There’s the train ride at the National Museum of Transportation. There’s the giant free-use train table at the Frisco Train & Toy Store. There’s even an overpriced train ride inside West County mall that travels near a 30-foot banner of a half-naked Rihanna that I have to pretend not to notice or care about. There are also seasonal trains, like the Polar Express, Wildwood’s Wabash Frisco & Pacific Railroad, and, my favorite, the Holiday Flower and Train show at the Missouri Botanical Garden that my two-year-old seemed determined to destroy this year.

But of all these, without contest, the zoo train is their favorite, and it’s the sole reason why I have to purchase a membership every year. The zoo itself may be free to visit, but its train is not, and while all I want to do is check out the Bird House, all they want to do is ride the train. Since I am of the generation that essentially gets bullied by their own kids, I usually have to do whatever it is they want to do, which means riding the train roughly 500 times a year, making a zoo membership a fiscal obligation.

The zoo has a few different levels of membership, but my family goes with the $100 Navigator Membership that comes with 50 tickets to ride the train (there’s probably some other membership perks, and I hope to find out what they are one day). This is roughly a 75 percent discount on train tickets alone, which is a pretty great deal if you are somehow able to forget that most people go to the zoo without spending any money at all.

As a person who does not care about trains whatsoever, I’ll admit that the zoo train is mostly a pretty great ride. The main reason for this being is that it’s the only time my boys will sit still for longer than 20 minutes, which means it’s the only time I get to sit still for longer than 20 minutes. Both of my kids are under the age of six, so for anything to capture their attention for any extended period of time is nothing short of a miracle.

Their unnaturally subdued state is largely induced by how enormously gigantic and comprehensive the Zooline Railroad is. This isn’t some carnival ride that just goes around in a loop a few times. These are actual miniature train engines with a designated fleet of engineers and staff. They operate on a 1.5-mile track around the perimeter of the campus, allowing you to get from one side of the zoo to the other without struggling through the agony of a fifteen-minute walk.

The train also runs through a couple of very dark, underground tunnels, and good lord do these kids love tunnels. Especially the tunnel that passes behind the waterfall at the zoo’s south entrance. Now, the kids don’t know they’re being slightly asphyxiated by the engine’s exhaust fumes that are trapped in some of these passages, nor are they aware that the sudden lack of oxygen in their brain is producing endorphins, likely creating the illusion that these dark metal tubes are actually fun. I always consider writing a letter of consternation the moment I enter one of these noxious tunnels, but somehow I always conveniently forget to do so by the time I’ve emerged from one, so I’m complaining about it here instead.

Another non-toxic feature of the ride is that it allows views of the animals that you can only get from the train, such as the other side of the elephant paddock at River’s Edge, which is the only way I have ever been able to get a glimpse of baby Jet. It’s also a great vantage point in which to observe the world’s most dangerous animal, people, as you pass them by at the various railroad crossings, and who feel compelled to wave at you on the train, like we’re GIs being shipped off to go fight in a world war.

If you’re planning on riding the train with your kids in the future, I’d like to leave you with a hack I’ve picked up over the past couple years. When boarding the train, try to sit in the last possible row next to the conductor. They’ll let your kids yell “all aboard” into the intercom to signal the train’s departure. I’ve found some of the younger workers don’t know to do this, or forget, or simply don’t care, but if it’s one of those old grizzled railway grandpas who my five-year-old thinks has the best job in the world (which, again, probably not, but maybe?), he’ll be sure to make your kid’s day.

Or, better yet, you could make your own day and wait for one of those rainy and/or cold days where they shut the train down, and just go check out the Bird House instead.

See also: St. Louis’ best holiday event for small kids is a giant alcohol factory