We enter ourselves into unspoken agreements from the moment we're born. We establish them regularly with our friends ("Let us never discuss the time our dick tips touched."), our families ("What abortion?"), and complete strangers ("Hey, everyone on the bus: let's ignore the fart I just ripped!"). We need these unspoken agreements in our lives. They're like little trades we make with each other that guarantee we can all continue being happy as we agree to ignore a certain part of life we'd rather not think about.
We do the same thing with places, too. We all agree to set aside certain faults and inconsistencies just as long as we can continue going to the places that make us happy. What kind of places do we have secret agreements with? Well, how about ...
Planetariums: "Let's All Ignore the Hedonistic Drug Den That Is Our Weekly Laser Show"
The planetarium is a place of learning. It's an educational center that distills the often overwhelming magnitude of the universe and our celestial neighbors down to terms even a child can appreciate. The planetarium encases you within a dome on which all known knowledge about things greater than our own little pockets of life are projected. The planetarium is the closest we're ever going to get to the stars.
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Well, the planetarium or one of these, depending on your definition of "stars."
But then, maybe once a week, usually on a Friday, that bastion of knowledge turns on some Pink Floyd and a laser machine, and the scientists and great thinkers that run the joint turn a blind eye to all the people ripped out of their fucking minds on drugs who come to watch. It's called a laser show, and planetariums must be aware that the typical Friday-night laser show audience is so high they think they're going on a personal journey through the cosmos in a funktastical wondership fueled by Led Zeppelin.
That's the silent agreement science museums have with their city. Seven days a week, you can go there and behave, be sober, and be a proper lover of science and the stars. Hell, bring your kids! And granny! That old bag'll love celestial bodies and exhibits on gravity and shit!
See? Granny loves it!