Chasing Black & White in a Technicolor Zoo

To most, it might've looked like a frenzied tourist lost in the wilds of a zoo. But to me, it was a mission fueled by caffeine, adrenaline, and the absolute refusal to leave the San Diego Zoo without seeing a giant panda.

Captured the moment at 9 AM sharp as throngs of people ambled toward the iconic San Diego Zoo entrance. It felt like the gates to some jungle paradise were swinging open just for us.

I was vibrating with excitement. Not your usual Monday morning vibe for Cisco Live. This time, we swapped LED screens and server racks for giraffe necks and elephant ears. As the crowd funneled through the archways, I held my breath. Two hours. Just two hours. The zoo was sprawling, a lush maze of snaking walkways and murmurings of habitats unknown.

The bus tour was billed as the smartest way to soak it all in, especially on a time crunch. I hopped aboard, choosing the upper level to get a clearer view of everything. Massive enclosures dotted the path, offering glimpses of animal royalty lounging or meandering without a care in the world.

The first standout moment? A tiger, audacious and serene all at once.

I snapped a quick photo of a majestic tiger lounging on a sun-drenched rock, leaves gracefully framing its fierce demeanor. This tiger looked like royalty, perfectly at ease in its kingdom.

Something about those paws—so powerful, so still—made time drag, reminding me, in irony, how little I had. But the tiger wasn't the goal. They were stunning, sure, yet my heart called for something far more specific and monochrome.

A bus lurch here, a camera click there, and we rolled past other stars: giraffes nipping the treetops and majestic elephants dancing in slow motion. The San Diego sun pierced through the canvas above and I found myself half-squinting, half-gasping at each new vista.

Then—bam!—the tour wrapped. Our guide chirped happily about returning to the meetup spot for reconvening. Not a single panda in sight.

Unacceptable.

The stampede began as soon as my shoes hit the sidewalk. I was off. I didn’t care that we were technically expected back. Nor that my Cisco badge dangled wildly from my neck like a windsock in a thunderstorm.

Somewhere in that criss-crossing maze of exhibits and overgrown paths was my quarry. I crossed the massive bridge with all the coordination of a man who had neither time nor a clue, navigating glass elevators and turnstiles like a caffeine-fueled video game character.

My detour was rewarded with an unexpected moment of peaceful grandeur.

This giant appeared to contemplate life—or maybe lunch—under the shade, as if acknowledging our curious stares with majestic indifference.

The elephant’s ears flapped lazily as it toyed with a branch beneath the lazy sparkle of a mid-morning sun. For a fraction of a heartbeat, I was tempted to stay and marvel. But the digital clock on my phone screamed reality: pandas or bust.

My lungs burned, my calves seared—but I was too close to give up. I skidded into familiar territory: the old red panda enclosure. Rumor had it this was now panda HQ. Please, let it be true.

And then—there it was.

Upon arrival, it was a whirlwind of hoofed and striped creatures—a bus tour that sped past elephants flapping their giant ears and tigers prowling with graceful menace. But one thought was racing around my head: pandas.

Imagine my disappointment, then, when I learned our time at the zoo was running out just as the bus tour ended. Back to the conference we were supposed to go. I looked at my watch, then at the zoo map, determined not to leave without spotting a giant panda.

I dashed like a kid chasing an ice cream truck, heart pounding, dodging families and strollers as I navigated the zoo’s sprawling layout. I crossed a massive overhead bridge, taking an elevator down with all the urgency of a spy late for a helicopter extraction.

Finally, I reached the pandas. My breath caught as I approached the enclosure. There, lounged gloriously on a wooden platform, a giant panda lazed, oblivious to my existence. Sleeping peacefully, its black and white form soaked up the sun—and all the glory that came with my mad dash to find it.

My smile must’ve stretched ear to ear. It didn’t matter that it was asleep. It didn't matter that I only got a few fleeting moments. I had made it. And that was everything.

And then, this unexpected comic finale:

Despite their sleepy state, these pandas were everything I’d hoped for. Yet, as if part of an elaborate prank, the closest one had its back entirely turned to me. It wasn’t just asleep—it had arranged itself in a pose of utter disinterest, like a diva fed up with paparazzi. I couldn’t help but laugh aloud.

Sure, I didn’t get the classic panda shot. But I got a story. Better yet, I got my panda moment. That back-turned fluffball became the perfect metaphor for a morning of racing against the clock, dodging suits and expectations, and choosing curiosity over convenience.

And no keynote speaker—no matter how brilliant—was going to top that.