There are way too many dirty jokes to make here. Way too many puns. I’ve already gone ahead with the title, but the crushing weight of possibilities to show my comedic chops is weighing down on me.
Instead I’ll keep it simple: I went on a fantastic trip to Washington, DC to visit two of my old roommates and get a little R&R away from the beach, back in my preferred habitat… the city. My most anti-selfie friend and I uncharacteristically decided to join in on the social media extravaganza that is “The Beach” at The National Building Museum. As a swimmer I approach any situation that slightly resembles swimming with confidence… my confidence in this case was misplaced.
The giant ball pit that fills the majority of the National Building Museum lobby is a wonderful, exciting, stinky, crowded mess of fun, that I’m not ashamed to admit was a challenge for me to navigate. Zoe and I repeatedly slipped below the surface only to find each other scrambling to adjust our weight and make it back up again. I stepped on several humans and got pegged in the head by at least 100 of the little, white plastic balls.
While surfing the waves created by tiny children catapulting themselves into the pit, Zoe asked me (as the resident art snob of our friend group) what I felt about the interactive exhibition. I told her that I loved the concept— after all, I had lived in Washington, DC for 4 years, studying art and architecture the whole time, yet had never visited the museum until that day. The exhibition brought together every demographic and questioned the common perception that museums are stuffy or inaccessible to those who haven’t studied their topics.