My friend Dar, who's toiling along through plastic surgery residency in Cincinnatti, had an extremely rare weekend off so she came to visit. After relentlessly shaming me for being a St Louis resident but never having been up to the top of the St Louis Arch, we spent most of Saturday afternoon there.
Allow me to specify how "most of Saturday afternoon" breaks down:
- 20 minutes in the arch itself
- 2 hours jumping/cartwheeling/yoga-posing/handstanding on the grass in the park at the base of the arch while fiddling around with the timer on the camera in search of the ultimate shot
- 10 minutes (summed) telling innocent bystanders that we weren't crazy people and denying that we'd been there jumping/cartwheeling/yoga-posing/handstanding for the past 2 hours.
After that, we ate dinner at a sidewalk cafe then went to the venerated, classy, upscale, grown-up St Louis landmark known as City Museum. Picture the best playground from your childhood dreams, build it out of found objects and junkyard steel with questionable engineering tactics, install a 10-story spiral slide, a pipe organ, a live herd of turtles and a gutted airplane, then charge admission and serve pizza. Voila! City Museum!
From the bowels of said museum comes a montage I like to call, "Hey Dar, you should try crawling through that."
To which she replied, "Hey Sarah, you found another inanimate boyfriend." (Wow! Printer Man, Wooden Doorstop Man, and Crosswalk Reminder Guy will be so jealous!)
Oh, the legendary herd of turtles! I'm so glad to hear that there's a real place where the herd actually exists.
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