George Groebner/The Mossy Log
When I first arrived at the Oregon Museum of Science and Industry (OMSI), camera in hand, to experience the wonders of OMSI After Dark: Fairytale and Folklore, my initial thought was that there were many more people than I expected. Despite the cold February night, people in the hundreds-long admissions line were wearing sequined cocktail dresses and Halloween-style hobbit vests. Standing there in my three layers of clothing, I envied their panache and commitment to nerdiness.
Thankfully for all of us, the line moved quickly, and I emerged from the ticket booth into a packed arena of interactive science experiments and brain teasers. There was a model crane sponsored by the Port of Portland that visitors could operate. You could also launch air-powered bottle rockets up 20-foot cabled columns, build an earthquake-proof Lego tower and learn about sustainable seafood choices by throwing wiffleballs at an interactive grocery screen. If you were feeling particularly confident, you could try your hand at a series of seemingly impossible brain teasers; I failed repeatedly to arrange geometrical blocks into a perfect square and separate two wooden blocks connected by a system of interlocking interior bearings. Nearby, vendors sold mushroom jerky, microbrews and handmade weavings. The line to have your fortune told by Una the Mermaid — a mermaid performer who uses a vintage-style tank for shows — was nearly as long as the one outside.
In the Physics Lab, I tested a hypothesis of my own: If you play the Black Sabbath “Iron Man” riff on the cage of levers and musical bellows, within minutes you will hear somebody else trying to replicate your riffing. Having been proven correct, I moved on to the Van de Graaff generator, a sort of metal orb connected to a fan belt that produced tremendous amounts of static electricity. I volunteered as a test subject and suddenly found myself looking into a mirror at a person who had my face and was wearing my clothes, but whose hair was standing on end like a geriatric dandelion. With one hand on the generator, I was directed to point my other hand at a nearby man’s forehead, whereupon he would feel lightly zapped with static electricity, like a force field. I do not know if I did it right, but he certainly acted as if I did.
Down the hallway toward the Theory restaurant, past the taxidermied cryptids and somebody who appeared to be selling hexes, was the Unicorn Petting Zoo, where you could stand in a line (that was surprisingly short) to pet two remarkably docile ponies. These creatures must have been chosen for the mission for their unflappability, because I do not know how many ponies would stay calm throughout the process of having plastic horns attached to their foreheads. Either that, or those were real unicorns, and somebody owes all those girls who wore “Unicorns Are Real” t-shirts when I was in the sixth grade an apology.
A deeper diversion into the museum-goers’ wardrobes is due. Beyond the dresses and tunics, I saw no shortage of pointy ears, wizard hats and fantastical robes. One attendee was in a full suit of armor, which looked hilariously out of place next to the industrial crane. There were space-commander costumes, nose piercings and someone in a straight-up wolf fursuit. It was less of a strict dress code and more of a general vibe.
The long hallways of OMSI’s ground floor led to some interesting arrangements of attractions. Very close to the booth for Oregon Public Broadcasting was a juggling troupe, doing tricks with rings, bowling pins and diabolos. I committed the slip of showing one of them that I could juggle a little bit. Unfortunately, I ended up off to the edge of their performance space, struggling to keep two balls and a bowling pin in the air for more than three seconds while repeatedly ending up in a sort of marriage-proposal lunge pose.
At long last, it was time for Laser Rush — the planetarium light show I had wanted to see. Not until I was seated in the circle of movie-theater chairs, trying to decide whether to sit normally or wedge my head between two of the seatbacks for a better view of the ceiling, did I discover that Rush was a band, and their songs, such as “Fly By Night” and “Distant Early Warning,” would provide the soundtrack for the display. After the lights went down, there was just enough time provided for nervous audience member remarks like “oh my god” and “this would be the worst place to take mushrooms.” Glowing psychedelic animations began shifting and swirling around the screen, accompanied by impassioned prog rock riffs and lyrics about Tom Sawyer and the dawn of mankind. Focusing your eyes on one spot on the screen was impossible, unless you could tear yourself away from the pulsating symbols and focus on the clouds and snow behind them. Thankfully, no one in the audience was on mushrooms, or at least, anyone who was managed to keep it to themselves.
I unwound from my transcendental ’70s experience by wandering out into the light-drenched lobby and solving what was probably by far the easiest of the brainteasers. It had been an eventful evening, with something for everyone, and the 21-plus atmosphere allowed those in attendance to entertain their inner child without feeling ridiculous or immature. Also, you are never too old for unicorns.OMSI After Dark is a monthly event for adults 21 and over. More information is available on their website at https://omsi.edu.
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