Liverpool has always been the synonym for the Beatles. No wonder then that we rushed to the Beatles Story first, eager to feel the goosebumps for being so close to the legends. But what a disappointment it was. It's way too ordinary an exhibition for those extraordinary lads.
Possible (and definitely subjective) reasons for its not living up to our expectations: We were told by the staff that 45 minutes were enough, so after having a Latte at Starbucks, we entered the museum at 5, which meant that we had a full hour for the tour. Imagine our surprise when the staff started rushing us towards the exit more than half an hour before the closing time. They were obviously in a hurry to close for the day. How could you enjoy it if they tap you on the shoulder and tell you to hurry up.
Reason two: Graceland. Hadn't we been on the Elvis tour, we might have been happier with the Beatles. In Graceland, you are perfectly aware of the fact that it's a rip-off, that it's tacky and tasteless, and maudlin and mawkish. And still, there's something about this tour that makes you believe the King is alive. And you're happy you did it. And then you buy yourself your first musical magnet that, by singing Suspicious Mind on the fridge, reminds you of this happy day.
Just for the record: I've always liked the Beatles more than Elvis. Now, when I think about it, I'm not so sure. What a consumer I am! And I love it!