This post reviews my Museum of Tolerance (Los Angeles, California, USA) experience. The views remain my own and do not represent those of any group or organization other than myself.

Bottom line: If you can go, go. They close early on Fridays and are not open on Saturdays. I went on the AFC/NFC playoff Sunday and had no issues with traffic or crowds. I spoke with others I know who said it was quite crowded when they arrived, so I guess be prepared either way.

Arrival: The free underground parking doesn’t open until 10:00AM. For those of you who do not set your time pieces to the atomic clock, do so. Security does not remove the cones from the parking structure until 9:59AM. Not 9:58AM, not 9:34AM (when I actually arrived) but 9:59AM in time to make a 10:00AM opening. If you arrive as early as I did, you can park right in front of the place on Pico on Sundays. The light poles have four or five different signs regarding parking, but both my son and I read them as carefully as we could and determined that yes, you can park on the street in front of the building on Pico on Sunday. If you choose to park in the parking structure, you will need to pass an interview with a security guard in the driveway who will also do a cursory inspection of your vehicle. If you get a “go” from the guard, you’re sent down into the bowels of the building where I understand (but did not witness) they will put mirrors under your vehicle and might ask you to open your trunk. I did not experience that personally but a Yelp commenter posted about it.

Arriving Early: The doors were wide open when we arrived. DO NOT, however, make the mistake I made when I thought to go into the building and ask if I purchased tickets at that desk or somewhere else. When one of the four women at the desk finally decided to acknowledge my presence, I was told the museum did not open until ten and I needed to wait outside. I asked if this was the correct place to purchase tickets and was told the museum did not open until ten. I again asked if this was the place, after ten o’clock, where I would buy tickets. She said it was but that the museum did not open until ten and I needed to wait outside until then. So, unless you’re in an organized group, like the dozen or so high school students who were there before us, you will not be given admission until ten. In fact, once the second security guard told them what they could and could not bring into the building, they wouldn’t admit the student group until everyone returned from putting stuff back into their cars. You can’t bring anything in, by the way. No food, no coffee, no water bottles, no cameras, no back packs.

Ticket Purchase: Remember the rules Jerry gave George when they were going to buy soup on an episode of Seinfeld? Stand by. Know how many are in your party, have your cash or credit card ready with your ID, make the purchase and step immediately to your right. Do not ask any questions of the ladies behind the counter. Do not ask where to go next. Step to the freaking right and keep moving to the next security station.

Entrance: The TSA/El AL-trained security specialist was very specific and matter-of-fact. Place all metal and cell phones in the tray and walk through the check point. All bags are subject to search. You will have the opportunity to dispose of any unauthorized items immediately. If you choose to return them to your vehicle you will lose your place in line. I was not subjected to a cavity search but it was obvious the security guy either took his job seriously or was entirely bored with the routine. He, as well as almost every other person we encountered, was not too receptive to our saying “Good Morning” or “Hello.” The staff has been trained to respond with unintelligible grunts and scowls. I think it’s in their employment contracts.

Grouping: Heaven help you if you’re not with a group. They will sequester you in a lobby area until they decide they have enough to start a tour. Then you are paired up with someone who begins your tour. We had the most remarkable host. She greeted us in 12 different languages. She even commented to someone that she had to learn 12 different languages to do it. A woman asked her exactly how many languages she spoke. She was bilingual in English and Spanish but “[she] was learning some of each language every day.” That bugged the crap out of me. I’m a native English speaker and I can hold my own in Spanish and German. I’ve taken Greek, Russian and Korean. I have a hard enough time conjugating words in English let alone remembering if this article is Spanish or German, whether I properly stressed the accent in Greek or formatted the sentence properly in Russian or Korean. Learning a word every day in a foreign language does not make you a linguist. Her comment bothered me far more than it should have because it was so deceptive. “I speak twelve languages” really meant “I know how to say hello in twelve languages.” If she said hello in Klingon, could she work at ComiCon? Okay, rant over.

Exhibits: Once we were free of the self-absorbed host (who, by the way, let us know she used to be on Sesame Street and other kid’s shows), we started the exhibits. I have nothing but highly positive things to say about any of the exhibits we saw. I’ve been to Dachau a few times as a kid but that was more in-your-face than the holocaust exhibit here. This museum’s exhibit was far more engaging. It neither accused nor excused what happened. It explained German antisemitism from basically 1865 through the death of Simon Wiesenthal. It was educational, factual and engaging. The exhibits on current hate issues, like LGBT rights, women’s issues, racial equality, freedom of speech and others were also very interesting. I was not able to view the video program they had on other genocide and hate events in the 20th century (like Ireland, Turkey, Palestine, Serbia, etc.) but the photos they had for the slide show build-up to the video looked interesting. Why didn’t I stay for the movie? My daughter sent me a photo-message that she had broken her ankle. Awesome.

Grouping: Did I already mention groups? Lordy-Lou. One lady from our group wandered into the group ahead of us. She was escorted back to our group and told to stay with us. The guy was not polite about it. “This is your group. Stay with your group. Do not wander off.” Know that when you go. Stay with your freaking group or pay the price if you don’t.

Bookstore: I wandered into the third floor bookstore. From out of nowhere, the clerk slash security professional appeared. There’s no way this guy was not a Krav Maga master. He looked innocent enough, but I was in martial arts for a number of years and there’s no way this guy’s thighs could fill out his slack pants if they weren’t honed and toned. So I screwed with him. When my son went down one aisle, I went down another. When my son switched aisles, I would go down another. He couldn’t watch both of us so he chose me. It was fun but quite immature of me.

Guest Speaker: We heard from a survivor of three different death camps and a Polish ghetto. The guy is 85 years old and sharp as a tack. He was the absolute best part of the entire day, bar none. He told his story in a matter-of-fact way which seemed to help him recount the events. Unfortunately, his time was interrupted by a fire alarm and we had to evacuate the building for about a half hour. When we returned he picked up where he left off. Because of the interruption, the speaker scheduled to follow him was put into another venue so we had extra time with our speaker. All was good until during a question-and-answer session he was asked to summarize his life and his religious beliefs. The next few minutes were intensely personal and emotional for him and a number of guests. They have guest speakers scheduled for every day they’re open. If at all possible, attend one of their seminars. It would have been worth the price of admission by itself.

Anne Frank: We did not check out the Anne Frank exhibit. Sorry. Someone will have to check it out and let me know.

Fire Alarm: The fire alarm was an unfortunate event. It interrupted everything. However, before they blindly sent people tumbling into the street, they did confirm it was real and not just some chuckle-head having fun. I wonder if the very hot and smokey smell coming out of the elevator was a clue.

Common Sense: I had my son research to see if there was a dress code. Apparently there isn’t one. In this specific case I chose to err on the side of good taste and respect so I wore long pants and a button-down shirt. Some of the high school girls and chaperones looked like they had just clocked out of one of Los Angeles’ many strip clubs. Booty shorts and tight tank tops should not be appropriate attire when interacting with genocide survivors, but who am I? Someone said I needed to be more tolerant. Another thing which almost caused me to put the smack-down on either a high school kid or his chaperone was the kid’s mouth. Yes, the elevator was putting out a foul odor. But no, it is never appropriate when you’re in the presence of a holocaust survivor to start yelling out how they’re going to gas us or burn us alive. I wanted to take the little piece of crap and shove him down the elevator shaft. No one in his group said anything to him. I was both embarrassed and angry at the same time. Anyway, I didn’t have to crush the little turd because we were led into the seating area for the speaker to begin and motor-mouth didn’t have anything else to say.

Summary: Go and enjoy the museum and its exhibits but do not expect the staff to be pleasant or friendly in any way. At least that was my experience today.