A synopsis of our recent King Tut experience--as lifted near-verbatim from a note to a friend...
We stayed at the Loew's Philadelphia at 12th and Market (least expensive hotel with a King Tut Package, pool for the boys, and decent accessibility). Really cool-beautiful design: all streamlined and art-deco modernist. NICE!
But:
My dad has arthritis/joint-deterioration/swelling issues. He walks with the help of a cane but can't stand for extended periods and really can't *walk* all that far. Oh. And would BURN SLOWLY IN THE ETERNAL FIRES OF HELL before he sat down in a wheelchair...
Add to this:
My mom--who, when not *worrying* about my dad--spends her time either yelling at him or stridently begging the holy family for the strength to continue...
James--who doesn't walk down blocks so much as ROCKET down them...whether he knows where he's going or no...
and Ben--who likes to examine EVERY particle of every THING he passes. And perhaps construct a spontaneous ode in iambic pentameter to the more interesting images. But only after deep, deep consideration...and perhaps a voluble argument with his brother...who HEY! Seems to have run completely around the block and so is back with us!So, for eating, we just ate at the sports bar across the street the first night (after sampling cocktails and listening to some light jazz at the bar attached to our hotel [SoleFood]). Note: we could not EAT at SoleFood because Ben would have had a heart attack and preached on the evils of over-fishing, man-created ecological imbalance and, in particular, the plight of (shrimp-eating) whale sharks...
The next morning, however, we ate at the Reading Terminal at the breakfast-y diner-ish landmarkish place whose name currently escapes me. Best sausage and bacon I've had in a loooooooooooooong time. And buttermilk pancakes. No scrapple. We walked around a bit inside before heading back to the hotel, checking out, and driving over to the Franklin Institute.
I got a pretty good look at the region of the city we were staying in because I DROVE THROUGH a good portion of it. Some of it twice. I was trying to make a left onto 12th (parking garage) while heading east on Market--but EVERY TIME I wanted to turn left...there would be a sign saying "NO TURNS". "What is it with this place?" thought I. Do you have to drive into Jersey to make a left hand turn?But no. Those signs meant no RIGHT HAND TURNS...the wrong way...onto the one-way streets...
Ah, the perils of literalism...in my defense, my mom (next to me in the car at this point) was JUST as confused as I was...
Most memorable part of the Tut Exhibit: calling James name in an EXTREMELY CROWDED room and receiving no immediate reply. Repeatedly calling the full name of "the spare". Still, no answer. Pushing through people, beginning to worry...and finally spying what looked SUSPICIOUSLY TO ME like BUNNY EARS gamboling about behind a bust of Nefertiti. He'd squeezed into the space between the glass case and the wall. Thought the goers-by would appreciate a moment of humor in the midst of all the 'really old stuff'...
After that, I held the boy's hand. Isis, goddess of motherhood, would have been proud. We went through the exhibit more quickly than the rest of the family--yes... But, on the plus side, at no time during the subsequent afternoon did I develop a stuttering eye-tic. And, too, I was almost rendered incontinent with love when this same child ultimately went into the gift shop and asked to buy a small Egyptian head-dress to wear as part of his Halloween costume for this year. He does learn and appreciate. In his way...
