I've just returned from Kansas City, Missouri, where I attended the National Council on History Education conference with a colleague and a trio of students. Whew! It was a great time, complete with great restaurants and outings and three perfectly awful sessions before our own.
While there, we visited the World War I museum (twice). A ticket buys you two days of visiting. The first day we arrived not long before closing, in the pouring (streaming) (dousing) (pounding) rain. Patrons for the tower (where you can look out over KC) included our group of five and a family with four or five sons. They went up first, but not before their youngest looked up at one of our students and burst into frantic humming. Yes, humming. Weird? That was nothing.
They returned to the base - I guess standing on the uncovered observation deck in the rain wasn't so much fun - and we entered the elevator. We agreed about the observation deck, so pretty quickly we found ourselves back on the ground, running through the drops toward Memory Hall. Our humming friends were there, too.
So we walked around, enjoying the propaganda posters and objects from soldiers, nurses and civilians. One of the teenaged sons of the Humming Family stood at a kiosk, staring intently at a computer screen. He was there for a while - perhaps five minutes. Finally, he walked away and we stepped up.
To find...hmmm...the computer showed one of the murals on the walls above us, see? And it allowed you to move a magnifier over any part you wanted to see in greater detail. One mural showed a classical figure. Clad in draped fabric. Or...unclad, depending on where you looked.
You guessed it, right? We walk up to the kiosk and that young man had been enlarging, staring at, generally enjoying the physical assets of Lady Victory. We walked up to find: BOOBIES!