You might feel paranoid visiting the Drug Enforcement Administration museum
WASHINGTON Two kinds of people visit the Drug Enforcement Administration Museum and Visitors Center: those who could pass a DEA background check, and those who could not and become increasingly paranoid that they are about to be unmasked and arrested, perhaps by the gift shop cashier. Both kinds of people were evident on my recent visit to the small, free museum, which is tucked into the lobby of the agencys headquarters in Arlington, Virtginia.
Who says grass anymore? asked a 20-something guy holding a Keep Off the Grass bumper sticker adorned with a crossed-out pot leaf icon, available for a buck at the gift shop.
Shhh! replied his anxious-looking companion.
As for the other kind of people, I ran into two of them inside the museum. Notebooks in hand, they told me they were there to complete an assignment for their college Drugs and Society class.
Do you think all the information in here is accurate? I asked.
I should hope so! one of them replied.
I asked because we were, at that moment, standing in front of a re-creation of a 1990s-era crack house that, to my admittedly inexpert eye, seemed a little conspicuous. For instance, it has a shiny metal door that practically screams, Attention DEA agents! Crack house here! Though if you wanted to put your crack house on a block of S&M dungeons, this one would have blended in perfectly.
The two students and I continued to the main part of the museum, which chronicles the history of drug use in America apparently as written by the worlds squarest 1950s dad.
Hipsters black and white had little interest in the traditional American Dream, pursuing instead creativity, spontaneous pleasure, freedom and excitement, proclaims one photo caption, as if that was a bad trade-off. A nearby caption throws subtle shade at musicians of the mid-20th century. The jazzmen who smoked marijuana felt it improved their music. Non-users felt just the opposite.
As you would expect, the DEA museum attributes many social ills to drug use, but its most convincing when making the case that drugs cause crimes of the fashion variety. Consider, for instance, cases containing green platform boots and a floor-length fur coat worn by undercover agents in the 70s and 80s, respectively. Also on display: a metallic-silver shirt worn by an undercover officer involved in something called Operation Rave Review. Im embarrassed to say that it is nearly identical to a shirt I bought circa 1998. (I was not on drugs when I made this purchase, but the people who talked me into it probably were.)
Perhaps the most thrilling displays especially to those of us who have never seen them in real life are the actual drugs. One case contains a smudge of opium from 1923 that ...
