1. Dear Uncle Andy,
Many years ago you went to the Edinburgh Fringe Festival and when you came back you brought exciting stories and an album of songs from an Australian performance art band that I can still sing most of due to the fact that I spent years listening to it too much. Because of you I have always wanted to go to the fringe.
Thanks for planting that desire, I had a freaking amazing time.
Love,
Casey
2. Kevin flew in from New York and then had two days to attempt to get over jet-lag and hang out with Ella before I put him on an overnight train up to Edinburgh. We arrived at 7:30 in the morning, climbed a giant, ridiculous hill, dropped off our bags and then got started. Because with something like the fringe it's better to jump right in rather than wade slowly.
3. 24 shows in 5 days (22 each). We saw 1 scripted musical, 2 improvised musicals, 2 sketch comedy troupes, 1 “wtf was that??” devised play, 2 improv groups, 2 panel talks, 1 ceilidh, 7 stand up comics, 1 neo-futurist alumni show, 1 ventriloquist, 2 comedy bands, 1 puppet show, and best of all? 1 Folk musical version of Beowulf. God, that was good. (We not at all secretly both want to work with these people.)
There were also 2 shows that we either forgot we'd bought tickets for or completely failed to accurately read the map for.
4. Kevin and I turn out to be excellent travel partners with an almost uncanny ability to get really hungry and lose it at the same time. This might sound like a bad thing but was actually and sincerely wonderful because it meant that we'd get quiet and withdrawn (due to low blood sugar) at the same time and then fix that (by eating) and perk up at the same time. The only real difference is that I need, like, a sandwich in the morning and Kevin needs a giant coffee or three.
5. Edinburgh is beautiful. Ridiculously rainy, but stunningly gorgeous. We kept catching our breath and sighing at how pretty it was. Bonus of all the rain? Numerous rainbows.
So, so, so pretty.
6. I kept running into people that I knew or had connections to. Walking into rooms or new venues or down a street and going, “Oh. Hi there.”
The city was filled with my people, both figuratively and literally.
7. The fringe is totally overwhelming. I had the catalogue sent to me beforehand and barely looked at it because it was so full of things. We arrived and I went through a period of panic because we were going to MISS things. Which, of course we were- we only had 5 days, things were already finished or finishing, there's only so many shows you can see in a day and only so many tickets you can afford. But the anxiety of missing something extraordinary took some getting used to.
8. Best Decision I Made: Joining Friends of the Fringe. It cost £25 and meant I got the catalogue sent to me. I figured I was happy to support the festival and too lazy to find a catalogue in London, so I went for it. This turned out to be an accidental stroke of brilliance: the 2-for-1 ticket deals meant that the membership paid for itself, but the real jewel was the ticket hut.
When buying tickets non-members have to stand in an epic queue that, because this is Edinburgh, is frequently soggy. Members, however, get to skip the queue and hang out in an adorable, dry little hut and take their own sweet time choosing what to see.
At first I kept apologising for hemming and hawing and taking so long at the desks, but they kept pointing out that there were few or no other people waiting so it was totally cool. Best £25 of the festival. Highly recommended. Five stars.
9. Flyering. We were there for the last five days of the festival, so a lot of people had festival fatigue. Not us, we were PERKY. Which endeared us greatly to the flyerers all over the city. There are SO many shows that lots of times the only way you hear about something or notice it is by being handed a flyer. Streets are covered in people trying desperately to get audience members for their shows. Kevin and I would go out of our way to get flyers and were always enthusiastic about taking them. We got profusely thanked for that a number of times...
10. The festival is so large and full of so many different things that any number of different festival experiences can be had. Want to get drunk and heckle a lot? There's a festival for you. Want to see a lot of dance? Only stand up comedy? An entire run of musicals? Things that make you cry? Political drama? Children's theatre? Want to make a study of different uses of puppetry? There's a festival for all of those.
After excellent and and appropriate-for-us shows Kevin and I would turn to each other and talk about how we had found our festival.
D'awww. I'm in love with the fringe.
Showing posts with label Super Cool People. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Super Cool People. Show all posts
Friday, September 2, 2011
Monday, May 23, 2011
500 Posts!
I think 500 posts counts as an accomplishment worthy of celebration- and so I will appropriate pictures of another celebration-- My friend Elena had a birthday picnic yesterday and I finally got around to getting out my camera. I know Elena through fire-hazard and at any of our events there are, necessarily, nerf guns. It was a gorgeous day, my kite was attached to a bike and happily darting around in the sunlight, and there was hummous in 1 litre containers. A perfect setting for an all out nerf war.
The sky was blue, and I was sitting on the grass which meant that the sky kept beautifully framing people trying to shoot me. I started taking pictures and that soon developed into figuring out the best way to photograph a dart in flight. Most of the time this ended up with me being shot in the face and a menacing picture devoid of darts. Everyone once in a while it actually worked and that was tremendously exciting:
The sky was blue, and I was sitting on the grass which meant that the sky kept beautifully framing people trying to shoot me. I started taking pictures and that soon developed into figuring out the best way to photograph a dart in flight. Most of the time this ended up with me being shot in the face and a menacing picture devoid of darts. Everyone once in a while it actually worked and that was tremendously exciting:
 |
| Josh got hit in the face. |
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| I got hit in the face twice and totally missed Josh, but look! THREE darts flying through the air!! |
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| Tom was out to get Ruth. |
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| Gwyn looking all badass and trying to figure out how to cock two nerf pistols at once without the aid of a third hand.... |
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| Group Shot. (Heh. Pun.) |
Tuesday, March 22, 2011
I had a visit from my sister. Adventure Part 4. (Wherein we don't leave the house)
Sunday was delightful, despite being plagued by jet lag and colds. We slept in and then Gwen showed up for lunch. I hadn't managed to start preparing anything yet, but Gwen brought wine, and Laine had the genius idea of bringing the folding chairs into the kitchen. (I don't know why Ella and I never thought of that, we hang out in the kitchen all the time because it is the warmest room in the house and, you know, there's food there, but we hadn't ever brought the chairs in. NOW, however, they live there. Thanks, Laine!)
Remember our awesome organic food box we get delivered? Do any of you know about Laine's peculiar devotion to cast iron pans? Have I told you that I've been experimenting with pastry? Well. All of those came together in a deliciously elaborate vegetable quiche with homemade pastry and about 10 different kinds of vegetables in it. We had extra pastry (and extra cheese and extra quiche mixture) so in addition to the quiche we also made little baby cheese quiches (soufflees? Kind of?) in a muffin tin. All of this was taking far too long for Gwen so we also made bar cookies with melted dark chocolate on top.
Delicious productivity, convivial atmosphere, and conversation that flowed and flowed and flowed. It was interesting hearing stories being re-told for a slightly different audience. I know how *I* tell the story of Gwen and I becoming friends, but it was fun to hear her version. Gwen has heard all sorts of stories about our family, but this time she got to hear them from Laine. Excellent, good times.
Gwen eventually went home so Laine and I, in our relaxed/lethargic state ended up watching a bunch of episodes of "Miranda,"a ridiculous and slapstick-y comedy that I've rather fallen in love with. Eventually we got hungry again, rummaged around the pantry, and ended up on accident with a divine take on macaroni and cheese involving orzo, sesame oil, tamari sauce, and bok choi.
And that was pretty much it. You'll notice that I didn't leave the house. (Laine and Gwen were both sent off to the shop for various bits and pieces as they became necessary. So I guess the title is bit of a misnomer...)
Remember our awesome organic food box we get delivered? Do any of you know about Laine's peculiar devotion to cast iron pans? Have I told you that I've been experimenting with pastry? Well. All of those came together in a deliciously elaborate vegetable quiche with homemade pastry and about 10 different kinds of vegetables in it. We had extra pastry (and extra cheese and extra quiche mixture) so in addition to the quiche we also made little baby cheese quiches (soufflees? Kind of?) in a muffin tin. All of this was taking far too long for Gwen so we also made bar cookies with melted dark chocolate on top.
Delicious productivity, convivial atmosphere, and conversation that flowed and flowed and flowed. It was interesting hearing stories being re-told for a slightly different audience. I know how *I* tell the story of Gwen and I becoming friends, but it was fun to hear her version. Gwen has heard all sorts of stories about our family, but this time she got to hear them from Laine. Excellent, good times.
Gwen eventually went home so Laine and I, in our relaxed/lethargic state ended up watching a bunch of episodes of "Miranda,"a ridiculous and slapstick-y comedy that I've rather fallen in love with. Eventually we got hungry again, rummaged around the pantry, and ended up on accident with a divine take on macaroni and cheese involving orzo, sesame oil, tamari sauce, and bok choi.
And that was pretty much it. You'll notice that I didn't leave the house. (Laine and Gwen were both sent off to the shop for various bits and pieces as they became necessary. So I guess the title is bit of a misnomer...)
I had a visit from my sister. Adventure Part 3.
Heist. It's a pretty cool game. This last run we did sold out in 77minutes. People like it. I was not at all sure that Laine would....
You take a team of 10 people, gather them up at a pub, and give them some sort of back ground about how a bunch of thugs have taken over an abandoned police station and how we need to get the (mumble) out straight away because of (mumble) which is why they'll only have 30 minutes and need to be super stealthy to get around the "guards." Then we give them maps, a bunch of radios with head sets, assorted other useful accouterments like wire cutters, gaffer tape, a nerf gun with one round of ammo, black beanie hats to look the part, coloured ties for identification and code name purposes, and express instructions not to cut the video camera wire because seriously it's a pain to fix. Don't do that. Then you give them 30 minutes to plan their attack before getting them to follow one of the "guards" to the station and letting havoc break loose from there.
Laine was kind enough to play a round for me so that she could understand what I'm always talking about. She made herself very useful in that she became the point person to relay lock codes through, but she also placed herself in the one spot the guards definitely wouldn't catch her. Clever and good at risk management, my sister. Also, silhouetted against a window which meant that I could see her the entire time, which was entertaining.
My role is to be the operations person for the team; meaning I give them their instructions, story, and equipment and then follow their progress and the guards' progress by listening to my radios from my secure spot outside the game boundaries. If the team needs some help, they've managed to get a box out to me, or the game is getting close to ending- I call that over the radio. Other than that I tend to listen in and chuckle at how completely their plans have blown up. (Because the plans always blow up. Always.) And cheer or jeer as necessary.
Laine hung out with me during my second and final round of the evening, so she got a good taste of how much fun listening to the radios is as well. At the end we helped the fire-hazard team tidy up a bit in preparation for Sunday's run and then went home where Laine Facebook introduced me to a bunch of her friends and then we passed out, exhausted.
Sunday's coming up next....
(ps. do you like my cliff hangers?)
You take a team of 10 people, gather them up at a pub, and give them some sort of back ground about how a bunch of thugs have taken over an abandoned police station and how we need to get the (mumble) out straight away because of (mumble) which is why they'll only have 30 minutes and need to be super stealthy to get around the "guards." Then we give them maps, a bunch of radios with head sets, assorted other useful accouterments like wire cutters, gaffer tape, a nerf gun with one round of ammo, black beanie hats to look the part, coloured ties for identification and code name purposes, and express instructions not to cut the video camera wire because seriously it's a pain to fix. Don't do that. Then you give them 30 minutes to plan their attack before getting them to follow one of the "guards" to the station and letting havoc break loose from there.
Laine was kind enough to play a round for me so that she could understand what I'm always talking about. She made herself very useful in that she became the point person to relay lock codes through, but she also placed herself in the one spot the guards definitely wouldn't catch her. Clever and good at risk management, my sister. Also, silhouetted against a window which meant that I could see her the entire time, which was entertaining.
My role is to be the operations person for the team; meaning I give them their instructions, story, and equipment and then follow their progress and the guards' progress by listening to my radios from my secure spot outside the game boundaries. If the team needs some help, they've managed to get a box out to me, or the game is getting close to ending- I call that over the radio. Other than that I tend to listen in and chuckle at how completely their plans have blown up. (Because the plans always blow up. Always.) And cheer or jeer as necessary.
Laine hung out with me during my second and final round of the evening, so she got a good taste of how much fun listening to the radios is as well. At the end we helped the fire-hazard team tidy up a bit in preparation for Sunday's run and then went home where Laine Facebook introduced me to a bunch of her friends and then we passed out, exhausted.
Sunday's coming up next....
(ps. do you like my cliff hangers?)
I had a visit from my sister. Adventure Part 2. (Wherein I make excessive parenthetical remarks about cars)
Heathrow serves London. People in London don't really need to drive because public transport is so good. Therefore, getting picked up from Heathrow in a car is a luxurious, exotic treat. Or, at least, that's how Laine and I were thinking about it.
Nik and I were hanging out outside customs determining whether or not certain people coming out of the doors would react well to spontaneous, enthusiastic applause. Then Laine showed up! And that was exciting! I may have squealed. I really don't remember. I'm pretty sure I didn't applaud but you'd have to check with Laine and Nik to make sure. My SISTER was FINALLY here!!!
We tumbled into the car (remarking upon our fancy-pants car privilege...) (Not that you'd have any reason to know this, but there is a parking lot *right next* to Terminal 1, which meant that we had to walk for a total of about 2 minutes to get from the meeting place to the car.) (I'll get over this eventually, but it was really exciting.) (For me. Probably not that exciting for you.) (Sorry.)
Nik was very sweet and drove us while Laine and I chattered away about her most recent exciting driving experience. (I feel like the presidential motorcade is probably more exciting than a ride from Heathrow, but I'm working with what I've got here...) Chatter, chatter, chatter.
We eventually made it to my house where, thanks to the Gods of Parking, there was a spot immediately in front of my flat.
We tumbled everyone off into their respective beds and fell asleep. Then everyone slept and slept and slept, except me because I was excited again so I got up early and made cornmeal pancakes.
Our corner store is remarkably well stocked for a corner store. It's not magic like Meredith's corner store (which once had fresh cranberries out of season (in the UK!) right when I was seriously craving some orange-cranberry muffins), but it's pretty darn good anyway. Which is why we had cornmeal pancakes with real maple syrup.
I'm only telling you this to make you jealous.
MMmmmmm.
We all had a nice morning together and that was lovely, though frustratingly cut short because I had to be in New Cross for that weekend's round of Heist with Fire-Hazard. So Laine and I waved goodbye to Nik as he set off back home and then set off for Adventure Part 3....
coming soon!
ps. Spell check is fun on these entries because Blogger doesn't like 'Laine,' 'Nik,' or 'Heathrow'
Nik and I were hanging out outside customs determining whether or not certain people coming out of the doors would react well to spontaneous, enthusiastic applause. Then Laine showed up! And that was exciting! I may have squealed. I really don't remember. I'm pretty sure I didn't applaud but you'd have to check with Laine and Nik to make sure. My SISTER was FINALLY here!!!
We tumbled into the car (remarking upon our fancy-pants car privilege...) (Not that you'd have any reason to know this, but there is a parking lot *right next* to Terminal 1, which meant that we had to walk for a total of about 2 minutes to get from the meeting place to the car.) (I'll get over this eventually, but it was really exciting.) (For me. Probably not that exciting for you.) (Sorry.)
Nik was very sweet and drove us while Laine and I chattered away about her most recent exciting driving experience. (I feel like the presidential motorcade is probably more exciting than a ride from Heathrow, but I'm working with what I've got here...) Chatter, chatter, chatter.
We eventually made it to my house where, thanks to the Gods of Parking, there was a spot immediately in front of my flat.
We tumbled everyone off into their respective beds and fell asleep. Then everyone slept and slept and slept, except me because I was excited again so I got up early and made cornmeal pancakes.
Our corner store is remarkably well stocked for a corner store. It's not magic like Meredith's corner store (which once had fresh cranberries out of season (in the UK!) right when I was seriously craving some orange-cranberry muffins), but it's pretty darn good anyway. Which is why we had cornmeal pancakes with real maple syrup.
I'm only telling you this to make you jealous.
MMmmmmm.
We all had a nice morning together and that was lovely, though frustratingly cut short because I had to be in New Cross for that weekend's round of Heist with Fire-Hazard. So Laine and I waved goodbye to Nik as he set off back home and then set off for Adventure Part 3....
coming soon!
ps. Spell check is fun on these entries because Blogger doesn't like 'Laine,' 'Nik,' or 'Heathrow'
I had a visit from my sister. Adventure Part 1.
Laine was here last week, and we completely failed to take any photographs. So you're just going to have to trust me that it was *awesome* and we still look nothing like one another.
She showed up Friday night so I went up to visit Nik ahead of picking her up at Heathrow. Nik just got a car so he took me on an adventure to Windsor Great Park, which, ps., covers 1,000 acres. It is newly spring time here so the sun is going down tantalizingly later each day- the light was fading but we went for a stroll anyway. (These things are important! Strolls, that is.) We got to the sculpture Nik thought he was aiming for but it turned out to be a granite doughnut instead of a horse. It looked like the horse was on ahead so we kept walking, enjoying the breeze, the squelchy mud, and actually getting to see each other.
Remember how the light was fading? And how the park is, oh, I don't know, HUGE?
The funny thing about large swaths of parkland is that, particularly if you are not on a path or road, there aren't any street lights. Or, really, lights of any kind save the light pollution coming from nearby towns.
We got a little bit lost.
Laine is really quite lucky we made it to the airport...
(That's not true. We found out way out of the park fast enough that we were able to nip home, make Laine a cheese and pickle sandwich, go out to dinner, and then wait patiently outside of customs. What is true is that we had an adventure in the dark (the very dark) and felt lucky to have finally found the place we started from again.)
My shoes are still a little bit covered in mud. Exactly the way I like them.
She showed up Friday night so I went up to visit Nik ahead of picking her up at Heathrow. Nik just got a car so he took me on an adventure to Windsor Great Park, which, ps., covers 1,000 acres. It is newly spring time here so the sun is going down tantalizingly later each day- the light was fading but we went for a stroll anyway. (These things are important! Strolls, that is.) We got to the sculpture Nik thought he was aiming for but it turned out to be a granite doughnut instead of a horse. It looked like the horse was on ahead so we kept walking, enjoying the breeze, the squelchy mud, and actually getting to see each other.
Remember how the light was fading? And how the park is, oh, I don't know, HUGE?
The funny thing about large swaths of parkland is that, particularly if you are not on a path or road, there aren't any street lights. Or, really, lights of any kind save the light pollution coming from nearby towns.
We got a little bit lost.
Laine is really quite lucky we made it to the airport...
(That's not true. We found out way out of the park fast enough that we were able to nip home, make Laine a cheese and pickle sandwich, go out to dinner, and then wait patiently outside of customs. What is true is that we had an adventure in the dark (the very dark) and felt lucky to have finally found the place we started from again.)
My shoes are still a little bit covered in mud. Exactly the way I like them.
Tuesday, November 2, 2010
Chichester, West Dean College
Go.
Shoo.
This post will still be here when you come back.
Abby is there to study book conservation, but other people study ceramics, clocks, instruments, metals, furniture, and tapestries. It was like a post grad, English Interlochen. A tiny, gorgeous environment populated with creative, passionate people that you divide according to their majors. ("See that guy? Bet'ya he's ceramics...") Most of them live on campus in this idyllic country estate.
I went for a couple of walks (first by myself because Abby was in class) I wandered through sheep fields, alcoves made from trees, and corridors of autumn leaves. I took a short nap on a bench with the sun shining on my face and chortled to myself whenever I startled the pheasants. (Which was constantly as they are both abundant and easily startled.) Abby took me through the Victorian kitchen gardens and I kept delightedly clapping my hands and grinning. We ate apples from the orchard, went on an epic tromp to the trundle, ate delicious food (even if Abby's classmates complain that the cheeseboard has the same cheese every night. Whatever, the Stilton was lovely.) And fell asleep gossiping. The next morning I was allowed to watch their book binding class and was fascinated. What a delightful visit.
As a quick aside- West Dean College was founded by the estate of Edward James, who worked with Salvador Dali. When Abby took me on a quick tour through the main building we kept turning around innocuous corners and running into, you know, just random things. Like two of the lobster phones. And the original watercolour of the artichoke house. You know. Just things. (!)
Thursday, October 28, 2010
Friend Bragging
I have trouble not crying whenever I read about my friend Charity. At the very least I get covered in goosebumps. I can't wait to actually watch her speech!
Monday, October 25, 2010
Links and Stories and falderol
Remember my friend Charity? Yeah, she's speaking at TEDmed. That's how cool she is.
I am less cool, but still have an Internet presence- so check this out.
That's it for links, here's the stories:
This weekend I was being project manager extraordinaire for the Continuing Professional Development weekends at GSMD. This was the first of the new school year, so there were a few hiccups, but mostly things went well. Amongst the hiccups was the fact that the entire stash of tea and lunch supplies had gone on walkabouts. I had a little bit of a panic about that because TEA IS VERY IMPORTANT to English people. Fortunately the new bar manager thought it would be just fine to let me loose in the little-used commercial kitchen in the basement of the dormitory. So we used proper plates and tea cups and I got to use the DISHWASHER!
The dishwasher was very exciting, I'm not really sure why- but I got a big kick out of it. I would suppose that it is a fairly standard commercial dishwasher- you put things on trays, slide them into the machine, and then pull the handle down and wait for it to stop steaming before opening it again. But the mugs! They come out warm! And that was enough to keep me happy. Though I will say that is was a bit creepy hanging out in a deserted kitchen by myself with very few lights on. (Fortunately I had the dishwasher to keep me company...)
On Sunday I had a run-in with another electrical appliance- in this case it was an electric lock on a set of doors. I'm not really sure why this door has an electric lock, but in order to get in to the performance space in the basement (which is where the workshop is held) you have to get this tiny little key that will release this intense lock at the top of the doors. What I know NOW is that once you have unlocked the doors, you have to push them in and hold them there for a bit, because if you don't the doors shut and lock themselves again. Since I didn't know that I blithely let them shut behind me while I went to the far side of the room to turn the lights on. When I tried to come back I realized I was stuck, looked around for some sort of lock release inside the room (unfathomably, there isn't one), then grabbed a chair and proceeded to wait until someone showed up. (Who gets locked inside a room??) It was Sunday morning in a student bar, so I wasn't at all sure how long I would have to wait, but I was lucky and only stuck for about 15 minutes. Jose showed up with a bunch of equipment for another project and I slid the key under the door so that he could let me out once he was done laughing.
Falderol:
A month ago or so I was walking home from work via the long, long, long route and ended up at an art gallery near the OXO tour that was having some sort of exhibit about eco-art and recycled materials. There was a small handful of people sitting on the floor on the ornate canvas floor covering doing little handicrafts so I wandered in and when they asked if I'd like to make anything I said "yes!" and learned how to appliqué. This is what I came up with- it is an old green sports T-shirt appliquéd with sari fabric and a yellow fleece blanket. It took me about 2 hours, during which I didn't get any of my work done and my back started hurting from all of that hunching over- but I was so pleased with myself by the end and much calmer than I had been. I love London so hard.
I am less cool, but still have an Internet presence- so check this out.
That's it for links, here's the stories:
This weekend I was being project manager extraordinaire for the Continuing Professional Development weekends at GSMD. This was the first of the new school year, so there were a few hiccups, but mostly things went well. Amongst the hiccups was the fact that the entire stash of tea and lunch supplies had gone on walkabouts. I had a little bit of a panic about that because TEA IS VERY IMPORTANT to English people. Fortunately the new bar manager thought it would be just fine to let me loose in the little-used commercial kitchen in the basement of the dormitory. So we used proper plates and tea cups and I got to use the DISHWASHER!
The dishwasher was very exciting, I'm not really sure why- but I got a big kick out of it. I would suppose that it is a fairly standard commercial dishwasher- you put things on trays, slide them into the machine, and then pull the handle down and wait for it to stop steaming before opening it again. But the mugs! They come out warm! And that was enough to keep me happy. Though I will say that is was a bit creepy hanging out in a deserted kitchen by myself with very few lights on. (Fortunately I had the dishwasher to keep me company...)
On Sunday I had a run-in with another electrical appliance- in this case it was an electric lock on a set of doors. I'm not really sure why this door has an electric lock, but in order to get in to the performance space in the basement (which is where the workshop is held) you have to get this tiny little key that will release this intense lock at the top of the doors. What I know NOW is that once you have unlocked the doors, you have to push them in and hold them there for a bit, because if you don't the doors shut and lock themselves again. Since I didn't know that I blithely let them shut behind me while I went to the far side of the room to turn the lights on. When I tried to come back I realized I was stuck, looked around for some sort of lock release inside the room (unfathomably, there isn't one), then grabbed a chair and proceeded to wait until someone showed up. (Who gets locked inside a room??) It was Sunday morning in a student bar, so I wasn't at all sure how long I would have to wait, but I was lucky and only stuck for about 15 minutes. Jose showed up with a bunch of equipment for another project and I slid the key under the door so that he could let me out once he was done laughing.
Falderol:
Monday, August 16, 2010
National Air and Space Museum
Yesterday Sarah and Desh took her little brother Jim and me to the National Air and Space Museum at the Udvar-Hazy Center near Dulles. Now, I need to tell you that in spite of my father swearing UP and DOWN that I loved the Museum of Flight in Seattle as a child; I remember hating that museum. (Except for the flying car, which you really ought to click on because: hilarious) Anyhow, suffice to say that because of my history with museums full of air planes- I was suspicious of the Air and Space Museum.
See how this is falling into the water? how it is totally not going to fly? Isn't this silly? It was catapulted off of that there house boat and kerplash! fell into the water. Many times. I love it. Oh, early flight. So many times you did not work.
But! BUT! BUT!!! I was wrong. I was totally wrong. It was *awesome* and ridiculously fun.
We ended up taking a tour and were lucky enough/privileged enough to end up on a lengthy tour with an excellent tour guide and while he was totally upfront about the gaps in his helicopter knowledge was a darling and entertaining speaker. I was utterly riveted for the whole two hours plus. ("Plus" because I kept asking questions and he said that the tour was running over time, but he would be happy to answer those questions for me and whomever wanted to stay on after he was done if I would just please shut up and let him finish! Sheesh.) (That's not verbatim. He was much more polite than that.) (I wouldn't have kept asking questions if he hadn't kept hauling me up to the front when I muttered things under my breath.) (Hmmph.)
It's interesting being in a flight museum as an adult, or at least as someone with slightly more perspective than a five year old. The place was filled with scrambling, running kids (including a scrumptious toddler in an orange space suit from the gift shop and bunch of kids at that stage where their feet are huge but the rest of their body hasn't quite caught up yet). And everywhere around are weapons. Giant, flying, weapons. The Enola Gay is the second thing to catch your eye as you walk into the main hangar. (The first is The Lockheed SR-71A Blackbird, which, granted, doesn't have any guns on it, but is still clearly an instrument of war.) We were walking around the museum talking about various evolutionary improvements versus leaping advancements (like swept wings) and how all these things allowed us, the US military, to be better at killing the bad guys.
Killing. The. Bad. Guys.
Okay. Yeah. The history of flight has two branches- commercial flight and military flight. And our wonderful, fabulous, can't compliment him enough tour guide spent 20 years in the Air Force so of course he is more interested in the military branch of things. I am well aware that my lack of military knowledge allows me to be all judgemental from a particularly safe and ignorant point of view. But I have to admit that I didn't expect the National Air and Space Museum to make me think that hard. Or be that emotional. Or that uncomfortable and conflicted. Or, you know, that involved.
(Side note: The tour guides get to talk about whatever they're interested in. There isn't a set tour that they have to follow. Which is great because it means they are fascinating tours, but also means that Sarah and Desh once went on a tour that spent the entire time looking at engines. Which probably, at this point, I should trust and believe would be great because the tour guides are so fabulous, but really? Engines? Two hours of engines? I fear that that would be like a wrench museum. (Boring, guys. I mean boring.) All of the title cards for the artefacts and what have you are very technical; they totally and completely fail to be compelling on their own. Which is why the tours are so great.) (Have I made that clear yet? If you go to the National Air and Space Museum take a tour.)
Oooh! You guys ready for my favourite part? The Langley Aerodrome was hanging above our heads near the end of the tour. It is beautiful- made of pale wood and yards and yards of creamy cloth stretched out on an architecturally stunning framework. But, you know, it is also flat. With a boat in the middle. And clearly couldn't fly if you paid it to. So what on earth was it? I wanted to know.
See how this is falling into the water? how it is totally not going to fly? Isn't this silly? It was catapulted off of that there house boat and kerplash! fell into the water. Many times. I love it. Oh, early flight. So many times you did not work. What makes it even more fun is that when the Wright Brothers managed to fly, the U.S. Patent office granted them a patent on the idea of flight. Take that to the bank. So after people had got thoroughly fed up with paying royalties on the idea of flight someone came along, dug out the Langley Aerodrome from its storage place in the Smithsonian, heavily modified it, got it to fly, unmodified it, and sued the Wright Brothers. Ultimately the judge rolled his eyes at both groups and said something along the lines of "don't waste my time with your ridiculous flying contraption, but Wright brothers? You can't patent the idea of flight, anything related to it that you invented? Sure. Go ahead. Definitely. But not the idea of flight."
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