(The following is a true account of Correctness correspondent TBinns and his bride on their honeymoon as they tackle the Met in New York City. Between this and his recent Shakespeare post, we feel he is steering toward real culture instead of pop culture. The Correctness has taken him aside and spoken very sternly to him, and he assured us that he is still working on his 100 page thesis on why Transformers should not have testicles.)

After spending a few days kicking around Times Square, which, fun though it may be, can also be compared to having your eyeballs gang raped by advertisers, my new bride and I decided to take our honeymoon up a cultural notch and go to Metropolitan Museum to take in one of the world’s great art collections. I offer the following as a guide and also a cautionary tale. Losing your way in the Met is not unlike getting lost in the woods, sure it looks gorgeous, but when the finger pointing, bickering and aching feet start, you’ll begin to wish one of you brought along a map and a compass.

We went in with a plan…we definitely wanted to see the visiting Rembrandt exhibition, some Ancient Greek and Roman stuff, and some Impressionists. Then we’d be out in time for our dinner reservations and off to the Great White Way to see Spring Awakening. The plan breaks down almost immediately.

10:35 am

We take our traveling companion; a beanie baby sloth named Frederick, and place him on a pedestal next to an exquisite 20000 year old Herme. Other tourists giggle as we snap photos. I’m shocked that no one attempts to stop us. I make a mental note to put Frederick in the thinker pose if we stumble across a Rodin today.

11:15 am

The nerd in me lingers far too long looking at medieval weapons and armor. My wife punishes me by making sure for the rest of the day she reads every single placard at every single exhibit.. Twice.

12:20 pm

Lunch on the steps, hot dog and pretzels. Depending on one’s tolerance for pigeons this is a much better option than the overpriced museum food.

1:08 pm

The sloping glass wall that overlooks Central Park in the heart of the Egyptian exhibit looks familiar to me. Then I remember where I saw it from. I share this knowledge with my wife through the power of annoying movie quotes.

“Waiter…there is too much peppaaar in my Paprikash….but I would be proud to partake of your pecan pie….peeeecaaaan pieeee” I say with a grin. The wife continues to reread a placard. I try again
“I think hieroglyphics are just an ancient comic strip about a character named “Sphinxy”.

Nothing.

“It’s from…”

“I got it.” She says moving onward.

2:12 pm

The Rembrandt exhibit is jammed. It seems that when there’s a visiting exhibit the native New Yorkers turn up as well, making it very difficult to get near the surprisingly small paintings. I did manage to display my profound ignorance by pointing to Rembrandts famous self portrait and proclaiming “Hey, it’s the guy from the Masterpiece game. Check underneath, it might be a forgery.” I seem to recall running into similar problems when I embarrassed my sister at the National gallery in London by cheerfully pointing out which of the paintings had been used in various Terry Gilliam cartoons on Monty Python’s Flying Circus.

3:35 pm

A wrong turn at furniture has led us to a large area that looks like storage space. I’m not even sure we are supposed to be here. It looks like a Costco filled with fine art and antiques. The afternoon wears on and The Impressionists continue to be elusive.

4:06 pm

My wife is no longer speaking to me. The warehouse area goes on and on. In desperation I squint at a portrait, in the hopes that it would look more impressionist painting. For the record, it doesn’t.

4:25 pm

We finally emerge into what looks more like an area we are meant to be in, right next to a gigantic portrait of Washington crossing the Delaware. We sit for a bit, not out of any misplaced patriotic fervor for Washington and his famous whitewater rafting trip, but because we needed to get off our feet. This was the first painting we recognized in awhile, and dammit we were going to get our moneys worth out of it.

5:15 pm

Neither of us have any idea how we ended up back at Ancient Egypt. I forgo the joke I was going to make comparing the mummy we have now seen twice to Nicole Ritchie. We opt for the “Hail a cab” exhibit outside the main doors so we can make dinner and curtain..

8:35 pm

Midway through Act 1 of Spring Awakening, a rock musical set in the 1800’s where the characters all hold microphones and make anachronistic references, I realize that I had last found a little bit of impressionist art in New York. And it was even better when I squinted.

This woman is married to 1/3 of the Correctness. Weep for her

Ah, Broadway! The Great White Way, the place where dreams are made, and Disney movies (and the homeless) come to die. It is at once dazzling, alarming and expensive, but fear not. Before you spend your hard earned tourist dollars to seat yourself down in the theatre wearing your I Heart NY T-shirt under your suit jacket, and stow your statue of liberty salt and pepper shakers securely ‘neath your gum laden seat, check out our picks and pans to make sure your money is well spent. But before you venture further please take a quick look at a few etiquette tips for seeing a Broadway show.

-Please turn off your cell phones, pagers, blackberries, Iphones, pacemakers, R2 astromech units, electronic quarterback games, and in the case of an Andrew Lloyd Webber musical, hearing aids.

-Refrain from shouting “This is nothing like the movie!” at the actors. They are aware that the movie that “Big Mommas Musical House” was based on did not have any singing in it.

-If the complexities of Disney’s latest musical adaptation vex you, please check the convenient idiot approved synopsis in your program, rather than asking the extraordinarily loud bank employee from Toledo on your left.

-When discussing the show in the lobby, do not wish aloud they served dinner with the show like they do back home. You might get punched in the throat by The Correctness, or some other random theatre fan. In fact they may not even be theatre fans, New Yorkers can be hostile with little or no provocation.

Understand?

Excellent

Then let’s begin.

Glengarry Glen Campbell
Richard Rodgers, 226 W. 46th St (Broadway/8th Av)

Mamet and 70’s soft country make strange bedfellows in this tale of a group of real estate salesmen on the Wichita County line. The song “Rhinestone Fucking Cowboy” certainly brings the house down (Way down …to the point of clinical depression) but on the whole this would be one to avoid, especially if you are sensitive to bad language and worse songwriting

Tony N Tina’s Funeral
Helen Hayes, 240 W. 44th St., (7th/8th Avs.)

This hilarious, fun and interactive show allows you to attend the services for the two titular characters, eat finger sandwiches and offer your condolences to the actors. Anne Hartney steals the show as Mama, who manages to push past the broad stereotypes of her character and deliver a real performance. Her tear filled Eulogy is especially hilarious.

Oedipus n Boots
Barrymore Theatre, 243 W. 47th St. (8/9thAvs)

Greek Tragedy meets English Panto in this mixed bag production that is not without its charms. A personal favorite scene is when Oedipus gets the whole audience involved in his wacky mix up.

OEDIPUS: Wait a minute…THAT’S not my MOTHER!

AUDIENCE: OHHH YES IT IS!!!

OEDIPUS: OHHHH NO IT ISN’T!!!

Pap Smear : The Musical
St. James Theatre 246 W. 44th St. (7th/8th Avs)

With such show stopping numbers as “Just Scraping By” and “Cervix with a Smile” this smash hit is sure to run for years. But make your appointment now, you may have to wait three weeks to a month to get in to see it.

The Odd Couple (Revival)
Eugene O’Neill, 230 W. 49th St., (Broadway/8th Av)

This revival features Brody Jenner as the slovenly Oscar, and Spencer Pratt as the neat freak Felix. There have been some updates to the script as well, Oscar is a sports blogger, and Felix is a club hopping shallow douche bag. In a related story Neil Simon has announced that he will be committing suicide, specifically so he can roll in his grave.

My Hilarious One Woman Show That Also Pertains to My Ethnicity
Hirshfeld, 302 W. 45th St., (8th/9thAvs)

Mina Scanderoupalanditranfergusdentannetenburgesshecorelizondoplolis shares what it was like growing up in a family of undermined ethnicity. Utterly heartwarming…if there was a slight blip in the time/space continuum in which the meaning of the word “heartwarming” was changed to mean what we currently understand to mean “repugnant”

Gay Pride and Prejudice – The Musical
Lyceum 149 W. 45th St., (Broadway/6th Av)
Redundant as it may be to put “Gay” and “Musical” in the same sentence, this is actually pretty good. And Dave tells us the book was excellent.

Tix Booth
213 West 42nd Street (7th/8th Avs)

We were under the impression that this was a brilliant conceptual show being put on in the heart of Times Square. Turns out we were mistaken. On an unrelated note, we happen to have two tickets to the Lion King we don’t want….

So there you have it. Save us a seat at Sardi’s! But don’t tell them you are waiting for us…they are still pretty sore about “The Woody Allen Incident”