An artifact had gone missing, so they were told, and if anybody could find it, it would be them — this band of children with swiftly approaching Sunday night bedtimes.
With parents and grandparents in tow, a few dozen kids ages 7 to 12 were the first public crowd ever to spend the night at the Fernbank Museum of Natural History. They paid $75 to $100 per person for overnight access to the exhibits, two meals, a morning Imax movie and the bragging rights that come with having worn pajamas in public. No more sleepovers are scheduled, but Fernbank officials said they expect to add more.
Patrons have long asked for overnight programs like those at Zoo Atlanta or the Georgia Aquarium, but “Night at the Museum” movies increased the number of requests, said Kristy Richardson, the museum’s family programs specialist.
But to the business at hand — a missing artifact, dozens of willing detectives and a full night to explore.
Lily Willis of Atlanta spent the night at the museum with her dad as a 10th birthday present. She’s been to the museum before, but being there at night is different.
“I get to wake up in it,” she said. “It’s not like, ‘Don’t touch this, don’t touch that.’ ”
Terri Reeves of Atlanta had spent the night at Zoo Atlanta with her twin daughters. Her hope for the Fernbank overnight: “softer floors.”
But twins Holly and Rosie, 12, were thinking bigger — they noticed more freedom to roam than was allowed at the zoo. It helped, too, to have only 64 people locked in for the night, instead of a full day’s crowd. “I can’t pronounce what I just found,” Holly said after solving one puzzle. “But it’s pretty good.”
Here’s what it looks like at the museum well after closing hours:
7:15 p.m. Overnighters explore stations stacked with puzzles and hieroglyphs. They learn a dinosaur skull has disappeared and that they’ll need a secret word to find it.
8 p.m. Usual bedtime passes for some of the youngest overnighters, age 7 or pretending-to-be-7, as Fernbank rules required.
8:30 p.m. A presentation of nocturnal creatures includes hissing cockroaches, a blue-tongued skink, an eastern indigo snake and Ricky, a hedgehog-looking creature that guides swear is not a hedgehog, but a lesser tenrec. The favorite animal: whichever one is misbehaving while in its keeper’s hands.
9 p.m. Half the group moves on to flight activities — planes, balloons, squirrels. The final clue reveals itself: the missing artifact is in the Naturalist Center.
9:30 p.m. Another wave of bedtimes — those whose parents aspire to have them asleep by 9 — passes.
9:45 p.m. Parents get giggly in the sound and light exhibits. Kids are far more impressed by the giant bubbles.
10 p.m. Gatekeepers — teen volunteers in black robes — appear outside a door at the Naturalist Center. Anybody who states the secret word gains access to the missing artifact.
10:05 p.m. There it is, up close, the “missing” skull of a Giganotosaurus, one of the dinosaurs in the museum’s main area. (Yup, the museum has a spare, for just such emergencies.)
10:15 p.m. The PJs come out. Stripes, flowers, Toy Story, Georgia Tech, NASCAR, owls, lots and lots of dinosaurs. Parents put ’em on, too.
10:20 p.m. Dozens of miniature air compressors kick on. Stuffed animals take their rightful place at the heads of the air mattresses.
10:25 p.m. The sleepiest camper curls up with her mom in the Starry Night Gallery. They appear asleep by the time the song “Walk Like an Egyptian” kicks on outside the door.
10:30 p.m. Dance party under the dinosaurs! Hula-Hoops! Limbo! Sliding across smooth floors in slippers!
11:15 p.m. A lullaby track starts to play. A child informs his mom that he’s not tired. His mother is quick to respond: “Yes you are.”
11:30 p.m. Teeth are brushed. Doors are locked. Artifacts are safe. The lights dim around the dinosaurs. This is the real night at the museum.
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