Albert And Me And Baby Makes Three

"Sometimes the mind, for reasons we don't necessarily understand, just decides to go to the store for a quart of milk."

- "Northern Exposure"

This post may be a little confused because I'm a little confused. I'm sitting in a café in Stevens Point, Wisconsin, and am slightly depraved. Okay, a lot depraved. I blame this on a lack of sleep but I'm quite sure there are other factors involved. But I need to slam a post on top of the last whiny one because I'm tired of it; plus I want to tell you about yet another fantasy that for a change does not involve being gleefully tortured by Divas. I want to have sex in Albert Einstein's lap.

You see, there is a large wonderfully playful bronze statue of Albert Einstein on the grounds of the National Academy of Science in Washington D.C. within spitting distance of the Viet Nam Memorial, one of the least humorous places in the world (at least to me). The Einstein statue is surrounded by bushes and trees and other green shit; thus it is effectively hidden from casual viewing and you pretty much have to know it's there to find it. But once you penetrate the copse you are confronted with an Einstein that frankly looks mischievous. I like the idea of a mischievous genius physicist. Plus you could have sex in his lap if you wanted to. And I want to.

This dream of mine has much to recommend it:

• The site is but yards away from the busiest tourist spot in the lap of our great nation (as it were).
• The statue is reasonably concealed from view, and yet the element of risk is sufficiently strong.
• Having sex anywhere is swell.
• It's Einstein's lap, for crying out loud.

One of the reasons I like the idea so much is that the statue is both logistically and artistically accessible, in a way that the Pieta (for example) is not. And no, I don't want to have sex in Mary's lap, or at least no more so than anywhere else, so stop cringing. But I have to admit that Einstein's bronze lap looks awfully hard and lumpy. I would not let this deter me for a nanosecond if everything else was in place, but my fantasy includes two 6' x 6' closed-cell foam pads that I would stack one on top of the other and also a bottle of Moët & Chandon champagne. No glasses, though, we'd drink from the bottle. And by the way, a couple other elements of this fantasy are that STD's do not exist and Jimmy Carter is still President.

I must confess that one of the things that has always amused me about fantasies of this nature is that the sex doesn't have to be good at all. I like that. I don't need to catch the Downtown Train or even cuddle afterwards. We just get the hell out and giggle like madpeople and get to tell everyone that we had sex in Einstein's lap.

So think about it. Once the weather warms up.... This assumes that you are female, of course. If you are male, I promise to write about it well enough to make your toes explode from sheer envy.

-- Hulles