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The museum is better than it was on our first visit in 1980. President Reagan, in his heroic attempt to deny the poor any government money, cut CEDA funds–the program that put poor people to work. So the museum was half shut. It was July, no AC, no fans, and the ancient guard, feeling bad, invited us behind a partition to see one of the shuttered collections and to “have some fun.”

Ewwww.

In spite of that, the museum had cool stuff, including, on the main floor, an funky collection of totem poles. The new improved museum, in its appeal to yuppie scum, has removed about half of them. Since then, they’ve also purchased Judy Chicago’s “Dinner Party” for the permanent collect, which is like purchasing original dogs-playing-pool painting. The Dinner Party will go on display this year, tragically taking up space that could have otherwise been devoted to coat racks.

Even so, today was special. Because we had tickets, we laughingly waltzed passed the putzes lined up for the Annie Leibowitz exhibit. Heretofore, we didn’t have much use for Leibowitz, whom we pegged as a celebrity photographer. Smugly, perusing the pics of Mick Jagger, Philip Johnson, et. al. we reaffirmed our original assessment…until we came to the one of the oval office–Bush, Cheney, Rumsfeld, Colin Powel, Connie Rice, George Tenet–standing with formal serenity in the vortex power, all giving Liebowitz don’t-fuck-with-me stares. Mesmerizing.

That was nothing compared to the Ron Mueck sculptures. They were not life-life, they were alive, preserved humans–some humongous, some tiny–all freaking alive. Gimmick? Yeah–all super-realism is. But scary too, standing several feet away from the giant naked man and his big mean weenie. And the giantess in bed.

Answer: not easily.

Since 1982 when it opened, the Intrepid Air and Space Museum has, with its football-field sized mess hall, its maze-like passageways leading to machine rooms and bunks, and its creepy death craft rusting on the top deck, teased jillions of hormone-crazed junior high schoolers and beer-bellied tourists with promises of a virtual wartime experiene. A visit to the ship, however, had all the excitement of a pre-K trip to the post office.

With any luck, this might change. On Sunday, October 1, “The Fighting I” (the Intrepid’s award-winning nickname) will go through a two-year overhaul. The $58 million project includes a hull repainting, interior decoration, and construction of a new pier. After the renovation, previously-shut portions of the ship–the dining rooms, the poop deck, and the sailors’ quarters (tee-hee)–will open to the public.

The carrier will be tugged from its Hudson River pier on November 6, then taken to dry dock at Bayonne, N.J. During the rehab, about 100 museum workers will be jobless, a small price, say officials, for profits the museum will eventually earn.

Since 1982, the museum has attracted about 750,000 people each year. At $16.50 a pop, maybe it can, under the plaque mentioning the ship’s service in Vietnam, include a couple of words about the 2 million Vietnamese who perished in the conflict?

– Ilya Lyssanov