Don't Trust the Met

     One of my friends came to visit me in my tiny dorm room this past weekend, bringing with her plenty of witty conversation and a firm list of essential New York activities. Integral to her weekend plans was a day-long trip to the Met. I love the Met, so this was completely okay with me. Specifically, her goal was to visit a temporary exhibit of some (apparently extra-special) dresses. She is aware that my interest in dresses ranks slightly lower than my interest in catching fleas, but she assured me that we would also do something appealing to me.

     When we arrived, we found- well, we found many things, most notably the Greek and Roman section, which I have been through countless times but which I nevertheless dragged us into for the opportunity to drool over statues and babble to the world in general about Panathenaic amphorae. We also found the perfect thing to balance out the dresses: a guided tour of the medieval weapons rooms. Yes, I had been through the medieval weapons rooms many times before, but never with the benefit of commentary from an actual museum guide. I agreed that this was a thing we should do. 

     We found a piece of paper stating the what and the when, but it was very vague in regards to the where. When the time came, we went up to an official-looking adult, and we asked where the medieval weapons tour was meeting. They told us that they weren't sure, but they thought it was meeting in the entrance hall. 

     We went out to the entrance hall, and just to be sure, we asked one of the people behind the information desk where the medieval weapons tour was meeting. They told us to go one floor down, past a big pillar thing. 

     We went a floor down. We passed the pillar thing. There were a whole bunch of people with those brightly-colored flags that tourist group leaders carry around to keep their herds from wandering off. But we didn't see any sign of the tour. Fortunately, we found yet another information desk, and another helpful museum official who told us that the tour group was meeting in the medieval wing. 

     We went to the medieval wing. There was no one there. 

It became clear to us in that moment that the tour was, in fact, nothing more than an elaborate hoax, and thus, we learned one of the cold truths of life: the Met is full of liars.