On Friday, I took the day off from work and went to the American Museum of Natural History. This is probably my favorite place in all of New York City. Some people might find it odd that I prefer the company of historical artifacts, stuffed animals, and gift shops to the general population of New York, but once you've lived here for three years, you start to prefer things that won't talk back to you. The museum is air conditioned, smells normal, and is generally staffed with helpful people. Take the exact opposite of all that and you have the rest of New York.
My favorite part of the museum is the oceanic exhibit. Let me preface the rest of this with the following disclaimer: I'm by no means a new age music fan. Frankly, the musical careers of Kenny G and Enya terrify me - when did a diggery doo become the musical instrument of choice? So the fact that I can appreciate the ocean sounds they pipe in over the PA system is pretty impressive. However, during this visit, I noticed I was afflicted with the same conclusion after viewing the varying exhibits, which started with the ocean animals. Now, before I tell you what this conclusion was, you'll have to lay down any sharp, weapon like objects because I can guarantee you'll want to either stab me or yourself after I tell you.
"Looks like somebody has a case of the Mondays."
That's it. Everything I looked out I pegged with this description. A walrus lying beached on the ice? "Looks like he's got a case of the Mondays." Whale eating a squid? "Looks like that squid has a case of the Mondays." What about that monkey pondering quantum physics? "Looks like he's got a case of the Mondays." I'm not sure why I saw a look of desperation and despair in those animals, similar to what you see on a Monday morning in every office in America, but it was almost as if all of them were saying,"Where in the hell did my Sunday go?"
"Looks like you have a case of the Mondays" might be the single dumbest phrase in the history of mankind. It's a close second behind anything that includes the word "Fabulous" and right before the discussion you get in middle school about sexual relations. Can anyone honestly say they haven't punched someone in the face for saying "looks like you have a case of the Mondays"? If you can, that only means no one has said this to you. Give me a call. We'll put your restraint to the test.
So here I was, mentally pissing off all these poor stuffed animals from America, Asia, Europe, etc. with my flamboyantly retarded observation. I spent an inordinate amout of time viewing the fox exhibit, perhaps because the fox looked as if he had beat Monday and was already onto Wednesday (Hump Day). He looked, well...foxy. As I stood there staring at the exhibit, I was reminded of a time in elementary school when the back drop for school photos was a woodland scene. Besides looking utterly fake, the background served as a sharp contrast to my bright Land's End clothing selection. I looked completely out of place in that photo, almost as if I had...oh lord...a case of the Mondays.
About five minutes went by where I just stood and stared at the fox exhibit, when I was suddenly surrounded by a small family - a son, daughter, and mother. The mother was obviously trying to cram a day of learning into the summer afternoon as she kept asking her kids to describe what they saw. Apparently, the average four year old is much more aware of its surroundings as the two kids noticed a white bunny hiding under a tree in the same exhibit I was viewing. Well, it made sense. The fox was certainly looking for something. Then, the mother asked "What is the fox going to do to that bunny?" The young boy shouted "He's gonna eat the bunny! For dinner! Eat him for dinner!" The mother clapped and proudly rewarded her son with a rustle of his hair.
"What do you think the fox is going to do to the bunny, honey?" asked the mother of her young daughter.
Have you ever seen a four year old have a complete mental break down? I hadn't either until then. What can best be described as a fine mix of mild seizure and complete drug dependency withdrawl, this young girl collapsed on the floor, head in her hands and proclaimed (between sniffles and stifled sobs),"I don't want the bunny to die! I don't want the fox to eat the bunny! No dinner for the fox! I don't want the bunny to die!"
As I walked away, I mumbled,"And I thought that bunny was having a case of the Mondays..."