Nazis at the Alamo
I meant to blog about this a while back, but I never got around to it. Anyway, we stopped in San Antonio on our trip from California to Atlanta. We had some time to kill because we were meeting Brandon's sister and she had to drive from Austin, so we decided to go to the Alamo. After all, we're told never to forget it, and how can we manage to do that if we've never seen it in order to forget it? Exactly.
It's an alright sort of place. It's old, and much of it has been renovated. Outside there is a bit of greenery that I might have enjoyed more if the heat weren't baking my very insides, causing the meanness that I usually keep in check to pervade my every word and deed, driving Brandon to find air conditioning for all that is good and holy. "Do you think the Alamo has air conditioning?" I snickered. Glory be, it certainly did! Who knew the indians or other unlucky souls that were forced to build this place were innovative enough to think of central cooling?
Upon entering the Texas Holy of Holies Brandon, in his irreverence for the proud state of Texas, snapped a picture. He was promptly reprimanded by one of the zealous Alamo guides, who was able to stop the deterioration of this magnificent dwelling by not allowing any photos, even those without the flash on. (Oddly, when I reflect on the different museums we've been to, we were able to waltz right up to Van Gogh or Monet paintings and take pictures as long as the flash was off. But the Alamo? Way more fragile.)
While Brandon listened to a guide reciting a lecture that was more boring than... I can't really think of anything more dull, I mean the guy was yammering about how laws were passed and such. Talk about the killings! The gruesome deaths! The bodies that were found beneath the floor just a few feet away, anything! Anyway, so while he was listening to that, I wandered about taking a second look at Davy Crockett's leather vest and some letter that he wrote with his own handwritting, I was followed by one of the guides. I was the only one in the room, so I know he was there to watch me. And I thought as I glanced at the walls where people had carved their names and the fact that they "wuz here" at some point, that I should take the time to reiterate the fact that THEY LOST. This is not a place of victory, people. So. You know. Don't get so uppity over it.
It's an alright sort of place. It's old, and much of it has been renovated. Outside there is a bit of greenery that I might have enjoyed more if the heat weren't baking my very insides, causing the meanness that I usually keep in check to pervade my every word and deed, driving Brandon to find air conditioning for all that is good and holy. "Do you think the Alamo has air conditioning?" I snickered. Glory be, it certainly did! Who knew the indians or other unlucky souls that were forced to build this place were innovative enough to think of central cooling?
Upon entering the Texas Holy of Holies Brandon, in his irreverence for the proud state of Texas, snapped a picture. He was promptly reprimanded by one of the zealous Alamo guides, who was able to stop the deterioration of this magnificent dwelling by not allowing any photos, even those without the flash on. (Oddly, when I reflect on the different museums we've been to, we were able to waltz right up to Van Gogh or Monet paintings and take pictures as long as the flash was off. But the Alamo? Way more fragile.)
While Brandon listened to a guide reciting a lecture that was more boring than... I can't really think of anything more dull, I mean the guy was yammering about how laws were passed and such. Talk about the killings! The gruesome deaths! The bodies that were found beneath the floor just a few feet away, anything! Anyway, so while he was listening to that, I wandered about taking a second look at Davy Crockett's leather vest and some letter that he wrote with his own handwritting, I was followed by one of the guides. I was the only one in the room, so I know he was there to watch me. And I thought as I glanced at the walls where people had carved their names and the fact that they "wuz here" at some point, that I should take the time to reiterate the fact that THEY LOST. This is not a place of victory, people. So. You know. Don't get so uppity over it.
