After Dark (Night at the Museum)

Chapter 5

Washington D.C. was amazing. I had been there once in the eighth grade for a field trip. But I don't remember much. Dad and I arrived in the National Mall, right across from the Capitol.

It was a long walk from there to Air and Space, which was our first stop. It was amazing inside. From the ceiling hung giant planes of all kinds. There were rocket ships and hang gliders. Everything airborne you could ever imagine.

Dad and I approached one of the tour guides. "Hi, excuse me," he said, "could you tell me how to get to the Federal Archives?"

She nodded, "Of course! Just be a historical document, worthy of storing for all eternity." I looked at Dad, confused. The girl laughed. "I'm kidding," she told the tourists, "They're not documents. I'm sorry, sir. The archives are underground, and they're a secure area."

"Really?" Said Dad, "Like totally secure? Okay. Thank you."

We hurried away to try and find someway to get into the Federal Archives. However, they were all under heavy security. Dad sighed, "Let's try somewhere else."

We walked from there to the Washington Art Museum. There were some pretty amazing things in there. All kinds of sculptures and paintings. Over the intercom, a woman's voice echoes throughout the museum, "Ladies and gentlemen, the museum will be closing in one hour." We had to hurry.

Dad and I left the Art Museum empty handed. Our next stop: the Smithsonian Castle. It was beautiful in there. There weren't as many exhibits, but there was one that caught my eye. I nudged Dad.

"The Gate of Kahmunrah. Mythic door to the Underworld. " I read the sign. On the front of the large exhibit was a stone sarcophagus with a skull of a face. In it's arms was a rectangular shape it looked as if it held Ahkmenrah's tablet.

As I stepped closer to look, I heard a voice yell, "Hey!" I turned. A guy around my age approached us. "What are you doing? No touching."

"No, no, no. I wasn't gonna touch it," I replied.

"You're moving in with some ITT, bro."

"ITT?" Dad asked.

"It's Intent-To-Touch, homie."

"I.. No, I wasn't gonna touch it."

"You gonna kiss it?" He asked, bluntly.

I laughed, "Alright. Sorry."

"Put your hand on it and touch it. Cuz I stand there. And I wait all day for a little girl like you to come in and put her precious nail polish nails all over the exhibits."

"No.. I'm sorry, last time I checked, I thought we lived in a free country," Dad said in my defense.

"No we don't," He replied, "It's the United States of 'Don't Touch That Thing Right in Front of You.'"

"I just wanna.." I started, "I'm allowed to look at it here, okay?"

"See what happens when you touch it!" He shouted.

"Oh, so you're threatening me?" I replied, "You're threatening me, Brandon?" I looked at the bronze nameplate that was pinned to his blue jacket that read 'Brandon.'

He looked at me and mumbled, "It's Brundon."

"Excuse me?" I asked, confused.

"Brundon!" He said, loudly and more clearly.

"Brundon?" Dad asked

"Ba-rundon." He spoke with a sarcastic tone.

"What, did they run out of U's on your nameplate maker?" Dad replied with the same tone.