Being a real person is exhausting. I am not entirely sure I like it, though I have not yet chosen to dislike it. This subject clearly needs a more comprehensive investigation. At the moment I have two jobs and I might be getting hired for two more. My life consists of work, the gym, reading, and sleeping. I have become incredibly boring. My co-workers are all married and have children, so they aren’t much help; they truly are real people.
So I have had to find ways to counteract this phenomenon. Tomorrow night I’ll be getting in my car to drive the 1500ish miles to Los Angeles so I can bring my best friend coffee, hug/congratulate my other best friend on completing her second degree black belt (and ask her to be my personal body guard when I become wealthy enough for that sort of thing), get drunk at a Jimmy Eat World concert, and drive to San Diego so I can get drunk at The Shout House with my brother and cousins, because the family that stumbles out of the bar together stays together. Or something like that.
More recently, though, I have found my happy place two hours away from home at the St. Louis City Museum. I didn’t hear about it for the first time until shortly after I left for college, and never managed to get out there during my short stints at home. We went to St. Louis for a wedding, but The Lion and I decided that we were due for another Sister’s Day, so we went to The City Museum instead of the ceremony, which is supremely rude, but it was so much fun that I’m not particularly remorseful about my lack of tact. (What else is new?)
The City Museum is essentially a giant playground. Random crap has been rebuilt into a series of tunnels and caves and things to climb on and get stuck in and slide down. THERE IS A TEN STORY SLIDE! It does not go particularly fast and towards the end I was thinking, “OK, is this still happening? Yes. Yes it is still happening.” But still, it was a ten story slide, and if I had worn better pants, I would have slid a lot faster. My parents joined us briefly and my mom had velvet pants on. Usually I make fun of these ridiculous velvet pants, but they proved to be ideal slide-wear.
The Lion and I actually had to buy new cheap clothing from the fantastic vintage store in the building, because we quickly realized that our party dresses were going to be a problem. My shirt cost $1! Win! I kept the tights on, though, and I still don’t know how I got through the day without ripping them. My knees have not acquired that many bruises since elementary school.
Slightly Disappointing recently had an awesomely awesome post about the St. Louis City Museum. For the record: he is not exaggerating about the special brand of flexibility that particular spiraly tube tunnel thing requires. The Lion struggled with it and she’s fairly skinny, albeit a bit tall. I was working my way down, impressed by my own maneuverability, and then I saw The Lion’s head off to my side, warning me that it was about to get tricky. I didn’t know what she could possibly mean, because based on where she was standing, I figured I had one more spiral to get through. Instead, it looped around two more times in a space where it should not have looped more than once. My foot kept getting stuck and I was unaware that the human body could bend this way, but I made it through. Nobody was more surprised than I was.
My actual proudest moment was in the outdoor section where I braved the tunnel of death. The Lion is usually a cowardly lion because she is the baby of the family but when she went through it I knew I had to follow because my pride was clearly on the line. OK, so I don’t really have that much pride, but being out-badassed by my little sister would be a new low even for me. After all of the injuries I had sustained throughout the day, I would not allow myself to let my fear of heights get the better of me. Granted, The Lion weighs a lot less than I do, so the fact that she got through the tunnel without falling to her doom did not necessarily guarantee I would survive. I waited until she got all the way across, though, figuring that if I died, I wanted her to live to tell everyone about how brave I was. Except I was repeating, “Don’t look down. Eyes ahead.” as I crawled across. Oops.
But the thing I actually wanted to share with you today is this little gem:
So that’s why you should all book a flight to St. Louis immediately. But don’t you dare go to a Cardinals game, because then I’ll have to terminate our friendship. Sorry.