Zoo Parties at Furry Conventions

Today, we’re going to be talking about “zoo parties.” I’m sure you’ve seen them on Twitter, or wherever else you get your news. Congregations of vile “zoosexuals” coming together at otherwise wholesome and pure gatherings of innocent furries, who just want to look at animals but in a non-zooey way. Ruining the perfect image of this fandom. 
But, I’ve had enough. I’ve decided to come clean about what really goes down at these kinds of parties. I’d much rather have the furries know about what could be happening in the hotel room right next to theirs. So, if you’re interested in hearing about the crazy things that I did at the last zoo party I went to, read on~ 
It was close to 7PM local time, on a Saturday night. Zoos tend to be older than the average furry, so believe me when I say that this was the peak of party hour for some people. I double checked my phone 4 times on the way up to the room. Not because I was nervous, I’m just stupid and if we’re being honest a little bit drunk already. I stepped off the elevator and into the normal looking hotel hallway. Well, normal aside from all the fursuiters, I guess those would stand out if you haven’t been to a lot of conventions. Finally, I found the door that I was looking for. I took a deep breath.
I knocked on the door three times at a reasonable volume (the secret zoo knock). I could hear the sounds of others inside already. Conversations, music playing. I heard someone shuffle towards the other side of the barrier, and then with a click the door opened. Behind it was a man. He was tall, somewhat handsome, and wearing a furry adjacent shirt.
“Are you here for the party?” He asked me
“Yes.” I replied. 
“Okay cool.” He stepped back and motioned for me to come in. To the average reader, this may seem like a nothing encounter, but “yes” is actually the secret response to their call. 
I finally ended up inside. I put down my bag, full of the various things that I’d purchased from the dealers den. “(REDACTED),” I heard someone yell. The redacted part is my name, just in case that wasn’t obvious. I turned and saw a room full of people. Some of them I knew, some of them I didn’t. One of the ones I knew particularly well had put down their drink to stand up and greet me. They put out their arms for a hug, and I hugged them back. We embraced, and they said:
“So great to see you again!” 
“Likewise!” I replied. “I have a gift for you!”
I turned back towards my bag, opening up a pocket in it to pull out a small cardboard box. I handed the box to my friend and they opened it. It was full of the good stuff. The thing that every zoo wants. 5 different varieties of zoo positive stickers. My friend smiled and sifted through them, taking one of each. I turned to the rest of the room and said: 
“By the way, I brought stickers! Feel free to grab some if you want!”
With all of that out of the way, it was time for the real party to start. I walked over to the drink table, pushing past a few people in various stages of conversation. Loud music was playing, making sure to drown out the zoo noises of people barking and woofing and making other animal sounds, the clear tell that someone is a zoophile. I poured myself two shots of rum with a few ounces of coke, yes I know it’s a basic drink but it was a party I don’t care about your opinion. I took a sip from my drink as I turned back towards the room. Now it was time to really start the party. 
I can only describe what happened in the next three hours after this point in generalizations. Mostly because frankly it’s boring. There were a few artists there, drawing to onlookers who were chatting about their own art and swapping tips. There were people on the beds, drinking and having conversations about life, catching up with the friends they really only see on the convention circuit. At some point, people started showing off YouTube videos they found amusing. After a couple hours the host of the party, the one that let me in earlier, said, 
“Okay, I’m getting tired, let’s wrap this up.
And so we all said our goodbyes, swapped contact info, and promised to do it all again next year. As I headed out the door, I felt happy that I got to be in the presence of so many other amazing zoos. There really is something different about knowing there are others out there in real life. 
Leaving that den of sin and evil behind, it was time to cleanse my soul with a much more normal furry kind of party. One where half the room is high and there are no pants allowed. 
And so to any furries reading this, just know that at any convention you go to, there’s going to be a malicious gathering of zoos just like this. One where people talk and drink and socialize with their friends and hang out and catch up and play music and chat. One where people can not feel like the monsters that idiots on the internet make them out to be for a few short hours. Where they can feel like they belong. 
Article written by Tarro (March 2024) 
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