June 9, 2010
Sal rolls his eyes as we enter a room full of shiny-faced wax representations of ex-Presidents. He'd warned me, on the walk to the museum, that people would be doing what we're now seeing someone doing, but I have to admit it doesn't annoy me as much as it does him. What do I care if someone pretends to be fascinated by the silent droning of an inanimate Richard Nixon? I'm as amused by this as I was when in Italy, and the lawn by the Leaning Tower of Pisa was peppered with tourists pretending to hold the tower up.