je l'aime les moustaches
Hmmmmm...
I'm trying to think about which things to tell you about from either the DC trip or Mexico, and I just. HMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMM.
Hmmmmmmmm.
Well, I guess let's start with the spy museum, because it was A) Awesome and B) Dad's membership pacakge arrived in the mail today and contained--I KID YOU NOT--a fake mustache. A FAKE MUSTACHE. I think Dad is planning to wear it to the Macho Bocce Ball Party. This is double hilarious because he already has a beard.*
The museum is in DC, and we plus flightjacket meandered over after we managed to extricate ourselves from late lunch at some brewery (sorry about that, by the way, Dad gravitates toward breweries like gravitating things gravitate towards things that make them feel like gravitating, idek). The museum was VERY cool, and went on and on and on in the best way, and only looking back now did I realize I was so caught up in the exhibits that I never took any pictures. Were their anti-camera signs? I can't even remember.**
BUT! Very cool. And I want about a million spy fics, oh my god. I'm talking old school--poison tipped umbrellas, glove guns that only fire when you punch someone, knives hidden in the toe of your boot, pocket watch cameras, sock suspenders for your lock picks, etc etc etc. Ugh, do want. HAS ANYONE WRITTEN A HISTORICAL WHITE COLLAR AU? Hnnnnnngh, Neal would still dress exactly the same but ugggggh Peter in white spats and arrowed collars--shut up, okay, yes, my knowledge of this time period is basically one Fred Astaire song, don't judge me.
Anyway. We all now know how to pick locks and lie effectively and fold into a pretzel shape to hide inside a car engine in order to sneak onto guarded property (or out of the country). I also went into the museum with the conviction that I could never be a spy, and left with that knowledge even more firmly embedded into my noggin. I would make a really shit spy. But if I was a spy? That would be my first fucking stop. I would buy sooooo much spy museum memorabilia at the gift shop, and then go on all my missions wearing a hoodie that says "All Is Not What It Seems." Wearing a fake mustache, of course.
The one thing that really threw me was a video near the end, which seemed to suggest 9/11 could have been avoided if our spy network was more extensive. Um. Okay, I can see where they're coming from, but really. Unfuckingnecessary to go throwing around blame like that. We could have had the best spy network in the world and it might not have done a damn thing. Mostly I didn't appreciate the footage being thrown up on the screen without any warning.
One of the interesting things they had about spying in the modern era was an experiement they did to see what could happen if someone hacked into the mega computers at the pentagon--they only tried the hypothetical mishap on one gear, but it was just--melted. It looked like a burnt mashmallow. And that's one gear.
The other story I remember clearly was about a young man (15 or 16) whose entire family was slaughtered by the Germans. A year later, he was approached by a German commander whose car he was working on--the commander asked the kid if he'd like to spy for the Germans. The kid said "Hell yes," then went straight to the US givernment and became a double agent. Bad. Ass. Yeeeeears later, when he knew he was about to get caught--people were pounding on his door, shouting, and so he swallowed the photo negatives. Not...the best plan. He was coughing up blood and half dangling from the window when they busted in and arrested him, but in a weird turn of fate, he lived through everything, spent a total of six months in jail before he busted out. And lived happily ever after.
What else, what else? Mergh, my concentration is shot, we're watching the Borgias be bug fuck crazy.
Stay classy, bbs.
*It has occured to me over the years that I could be the kind of kid who is constantly horrified by her parents' crazy and embarrassing antics. OR I could be the kid who goes, "Yeah, that's right, my Dad's beard has an extra mustache."
**Other plausible explanation is that They got Their hands on the memory card from my camera and wiped the files. And my memory of taking the pictures. -.-