Turns out that had I visited just last week I would’ve had some souvenir photos of Ontario Place but as usual the government quietly gave everyone the middle finger and fenced off most of the area “for the collective good” (paraphrasing mine).
So, in a very apropos way, this year’s winter photos from the western tip of West Island will be some of the last ones I have.
I didn’t feel like getting an autograph from the Weasley brothers. I hadn’t really read their books. :( I’d heard of Henry Porter, though; not like I’m totally ignorant. I’d be ashamed to show my face down at the Science Centre again if I hadn’t done a little research.
But as I mentioned, I didn’t get around to reading the novels, so the movie(s?) is a bit of a hazy area for me. Fitting on a day like yesterday.
I suppose it would’ve been good to get acquainted with the Henry Porter series before setting out, but I managed just fine. There was plenty of time to stand around and gape (hence learn), while groups were taken through. The exhibit is timed so that people get ample gawk time when actually in it. In the circular waiting room clips from the movie(s?) are played in faux antique frames on the wall, possibly to suggest moving paintings. Not sure why. Then a big curtain at one side of the room opens with a billow of smoke and you’re ushered into the museum.
We were escorted through by Eddie Newquist and Robin Stapley, two gents from GES responsible for bringing the thing to Toronto. They were both gushing with enthusiasm over each and every item. Guess it took a lot for them to swipe the lot. Apparently even the walls are moulded duplicas of those used in the Dogwert’s castle. In the movie(s), I mean. That name’ll probably mean more to fans.
I was the happy recipient of my first ever, bona fide media pass this weekend:
Yup, that’s my real last name. Kinda underwhelming, huh? And you wanna know the strangest thing? Never did the kids tease me with Patrick Gay when I was young. Nope, it was always, “So did you score a hat-trick, Patrick?” “Hells yeah, dumbass,” I’d reply in my best Czech-English hybrid, “everyone in my country plays hockey like stars. Don’t you?”
I remember being friends after that.
Sorry, I’m getting off track. The point was that I was invited to come see an exhibit as a rep of TCL. I went disguised as myself; totally got away with it! Neat :)
This time, security apologized to me for asking me not to take photos. “Oh, sorry, sir. Wish they’d make those tags bigger!” “Hehe, that’s okay. By the way, I need to speak to your superior regarding your atrocious behaviour, swine!”
The power. *shiver*
I would’ve been very interested to see this exhibit anyway, so getting an invite was like a cherry on the whipped cream. With my favourite dessert underneath. Alas, I received no remuneration, alcoholic beverages, or comely female accompaniment, so I feel my hosts could’ve done better in those areas. But good on the Science Centre for inviting a good cross-section of media, even the little guys. *sniff*
And I must say, it’s really nice to be able to share a few photos with you, dear reader, in a much more relaxed manner.
Yeah, not that relaxed. But close.
This was one of those things where I just needed to move slowly and take photos of everything; no rush. The exhibit was all about athletics. Or love. Or something. I think. There were lots of smaller bits in display cases interspersed throughout that provided close-up details of something or other, and always in full colour:
Those are real human body parts, dear reader. Preserved for a good long time through a process called plastination. To sum it up, the sliced-up body part is submerged in acetone which replaces the water in the cells. Under a vacuum, the acetone boils off while a polymer (plastic) gets sucked in. The cell walls are basically filled in with plastic. Then they add soul-piercing eyes:
... with pictures
... with sounds
... with videos
... with opinions
... that's shorter
... that's longer