Enlarge Stuart Wilson/Getty Images

New wax figures of Prince William, Duke of Cambridge and Catherine, Duchess of Cambridge are worked on at Madame Tussauds in London, England. They're being revealed today.

Stuart Wilson/Getty Images

New wax figures of Prince William, Duke of Cambridge and Catherine, Duchess of Cambridge are worked on at Madame Tussauds in London, England. They're being revealed today.

Of all the things that make me say, "I really don't understand why this is still a thing," wax museums are right up there.

I visited the one in D.C. a few years ago, and I spent the entire trip doing little more than wandering from figure to figure, squinting at them, waiting for the sense of discomfort to settle in, and saying, "Echhh." (That's a glottal sound, not a cymbal sound.) And today, when I saw pictures of the new figures of the Duke and Duchess of Cambridge (that's William and Kate to you) that were unveiled at Madame Tussauds in London, I leaned in close, looked at them, and said, "Echhh."

But just as I feel obligated to continue to bring you adventures in creepy royal likenesses, I feel obligated to think about things from a variety of angles. What, for instance, is good about having a terrifying life-size replica of yourself on display for people to poke, stand next to and smell? For what might you use this privilege? Fortunately, I have come up with ten ideas that I recommend heartily in the event you find that you are a wax figure.

1. Get a good idea of what people will say about you at your funeral. Normally, when we discuss that idea, we mean it would be lovely to hear all the kind and flattering things everyone will say about how much they love you. Here, I mean that it's not a bad thing to know what people will say about your lifelike appearance if you manage to be particularly skillfully embalmed.

2. Should you need to abruptly go into hiding, secret yourself in an underground bunker and substitute your wax figure for yourself at, say, your office.

3. Should you need to abruptly go into hiding, secret your wax figure in an underground bunker and take its place standing in front of your contextually appropriate background at the wax museum. (Added advantage: Saying "Boo!" to rude museum visitors who will never, in one million years, be believed by their relatives and who may, instead, be presumed mad, which they deserve as punishment for being rude at the wax museum.)

4. Instead of Photoshopping yourself into pictures with famous people in order to pretend you know them, just move your statue close to their statue and make it into a giant diorama in which you are the eternally waxen spouse of, say, Johnny Depp. (Added bonus: You could make Barack Obama or Jennifer Lopez your imaginary waxen best friend. NO ONE CAN STOP YOU.)

5. Steal your wax figure. Apply direct heat around your face. Take your partially melted likeness to your best friend's house. Put it at the door. Knock. Hide in a bush. When he answers, say, "I DRANK SOME COFFEE AND I THINK IT WAS TOO HOT AND NOW I DON'T' KNOW WHAT'S HAPPENING." And then scream.

6. Dress up in the same clothes your statue is wearing. Stand facing your statue. Look into the void. (This is better if you do it with some Pink Floyd playing.)

7. When your friends go to visit the wax museum, merrily call out, "Tell me I said hi!" They'll think it's hilarious every time you do it. You should encourage them to visit the wax museum frequently for just this purpose.

8. Invite all the other real people who have figures at the same museum to something called "Doppelganger Prom." Or "Promelganger." Slow-dancing with yourself to "Almost Paradise" while boxing promoter Don King does the same thing next to you is a joy that only the most special and distinguished people get to experience.

9. Self-puppetry.

10. Lobby for your chance to participate in the next Celebrity Nativity Scene, which I came across while looking for photos. This is a real thing that really happened in 2004 at the Madame Tussauds in London. In this photo: David and Victoria Beckham as Joseph and Mary; British Prime Minister Tony Blair, The Duke of Edinburgh and President George W. Bush as the three Wise Men; Samuel L. Jackson, Hugh Grant and Graham Norton as the shepherds, and Kylie Minogue as the Angel. If they do this again, they will need a sheep. That sheep could be you.

Enlarge JIM WATSON/AFP/Getty Images

The celebrity nativity scene at Madame Tussauds is shown in London in December 2004.

JIM WATSON/AFP/Getty Images

The celebrity nativity scene at Madame Tussauds is shown in London in December 2004.

Enlarge Gabriel Hennessey/Hallmark

Alice St. Clair, Jane Alexander, Dan Amboyer, Stanley Eldridge, Victor Garber, Mark Penfold, and Jean Smart of William And Catherine: A Royal Romance.

Gabriel Hennessey/Hallmark

Alice St. Clair, Jane Alexander, Dan Amboyer, Stanley Eldridge, Victor Garber, Mark Penfold, and Jean Smart of William And Catherine: A Royal Romance.

Confession #1: I watched Lifetime's catastrophically cheap-looking Royal Wedding movie.

Confession #2: I might watch Hallmark's, too.

Hey, PUT DOWN THAT ROTTEN FRUIT. There's no need to be hostile. Let me explain.

Lifetime's movie ran back in April, to coincide with the wedding. The Hallmark Channel gave theirs, which is called simply William And Catherine: A Royal Romance, another four months to cook, right? That might be promising. More to the point, though, you will be shocked when I tell you who's in it. Mind you, I haven't seen it — I got a screener of Honeymoon For One, but not of this — but when they presented this at press tour, people kept sort of shaking their heads. Like, "Wait, that person is being played by WHOM?"

Enlarge Ben Stansall/AFP/Getty Images

Dolls modelled on Britain's Prince William and Catherine, the Duchess of Cambridge on their wedding day.

Ben Stansall/AFP/Getty Images

Dolls modelled on Britain's Prince William and Catherine, the Duchess of Cambridge on their wedding day.

I really don't understand what's going on with these dolls.

Enlarge Julian Finney/Getty Images

Well wishers with flags and cameras after the Royal Wedding of Prince William to Catherine Middleton at Westminster Abbey.

Julian Finney/Getty Images

Well wishers with flags and cameras after the Royal Wedding of Prince William to Catherine Middleton at Westminster Abbey.

I watched the royal wedding processional from behind a woman with a sequined Union Jack cocktail dress, flag-themed sunglasses, high-heeled boots, a flag she wore like a cape, and a plastic cup that she kept clarifying she was filling with vodka schnapps, not vodka.

Incidentally, I highly recommend watching every highly anticipated international event in the company of someone who merrily promises that she is not an alcoholic.

This was the royal wedding as the commoners of London got to see it, live and in person. I stood along Whitehall, only a couple of blocks away from Westminster Abbey, where just the day before, everything had looked quite normal.

Today, at 7:00 in the morning London time, Whitehall was surprisingly quiet, with only one layer of people already waiting against the barricades, so there were still good spots to be had. Perhaps to be right up front you had to camp out overnight, but getting up early in the morning was enough to get a great view of the processional.

Early mumblings were that this wasn't a crowd like the ones London produces for some events, but over the course of the next five and a half hours, the sidewalk filled and filled and ultimately overfilled, until we were packed in like so many flag-waving, wedding-watching sardines. Sardines with hats, of course.

In the early morning hours, the gathering crowd was so bored that they cheered for absolutely everything – a couple of oddballs in costumes, a street cleaning crew who seemed to suspect they were being mocked, and particularly a man on a bicycle who kept pedaling up and down the street doing his best royal wave. The crowd gave Bicycle Man an A-plus.

Enlarge Sean Gallup/Getty Images

Workers carry in sections of the red carpet at Westminster Abbey where Prince William and Kate Middleton are scheduled to get married tomorrow.

Sean Gallup/Getty Images

Workers carry in sections of the red carpet at Westminster Abbey where Prince William and Kate Middleton are scheduled to get married tomorrow.

We have almost reached the point where the only thing left to do with regard to the wedding of Prince William and Kate Middleton is to actually ... you know, have it.

We've seen the reporters standing outside Buckingham Palace, we've seen the seating chart, we've seen the flags and the commemorative plates and the coffee mugs, and now, they have to actually conduct the thing. It's easy to forget that this fooferaw actually involves two human beings getting married, but it does.

There are still things we don't know, of course, including a couple of potentially big surprises. Kate's dress is the most discussed matter that remains outstanding, and it's impressive that they've managed to keep that one a secret as long as they have. Of course, much of the suspense on the ground involves a more prosaic concern: whether it's going to pour down rain on all the silly hats and cheery flags along the route the couple will follow.

But in the end, much of what the people who watch this wedding will watch it for is its obedience to expectations. This isn't the kind of event you watch in order to be surprised, the way you watch Olympic skiing to see whether anyone falls. This is an event that is meticulously plotted, from every horse to every soldier to every person leaving every royal location for every other royal location.

And the people who are into it wouldn't have it any other way.

This is a wedding with a precisely scheduled kiss. Let me say that again: a precisely scheduled kiss. Specifically, the kiss on the balcony is scheduled for 1:25 p.m. London time. Not 1:30, but 1:25.

If you've ever tried to get, say, a group of five friends to arrive at a bar within a half-hour of when everyone is supposed to get there, it's hard not to admire the sheer wire-walking bravery of an operation that schedules a kiss for 1:25 p.m.

You think that sounds exact? The Prince of Wales and the Duchess of Cornwall — that's Charles and Camilla to you — leave for Westminster Abbey at 10:38 a.m., and that's part of the official timetable. They're not afraid to let you know that if they leave Clarence House at 10:39 a.m., something has not gone according to plan. Funnier still, the bridesmaids and pages — who are small children, for the most part — leave at 10:48. You give most people a gaggle of kids to move to a formal event, and they'll be lucky to estimate within three
days when everyone will manage to get their shoes on.

If you think of public events as dances, this is not some crazy boogie where you throw your hips into it and hope for the best. This is ballroom. This is a waltz. There are toes not to be stepped on, there are spots on the floor to be hit, and there are precise ways that dresses are meant to swirl at particular moments in particular directions.

Or, if you prefer, it's like a wedding put on by a drill team.

This isn't a wedding that's going to erupt in YouTube-style dancing — they won't do "Thriller" at this particular reception. But that doesn't mean it isn't all about the choreography.

Enlarge Pierre-Philippe Marcou/AFP/Getty Images

People sit on the Mall as they reserve their space prior to the Royal Wedding tomorrow.

Pierre-Philippe Marcou/AFP/Getty Images

People sit on the Mall as they reserve their space prior to the Royal Wedding tomorrow.

It's about 10:30 a.m. in London — about 25 hours before the wedding ceremony tomorrow — when I make my way along the approximate route Prince William and Kate Middleton will take. I walk from Westminster Abbey past the war memorials, through the Horse Guards Arch (where I accidentally catch part of the less crowded end of the Changing Of The Guard) and through St. James' Park to the utter insanity that is Buckingham Palace on this particular day.

A day that is, I should say, gorgeous and sunny and warm so far — just about perfect weather, which everyone will miss very much if it rains tomorrow, as has been rumored.

Enlarge Linda Holmes/NPR

Near the Horse Guards Arch in central London. "Horses May Kick Or Bite. Thank You." No, sign. Thank you.

Linda Holmes/NPR

Near the Horse Guards Arch in central London. "Horses May Kick Or Bite. Thank You." No, sign. Thank you.

Just outside the gates along the Mall, the tent people are already here. More women than men, more hats than not, with tents and beach chairs and flags and little camping lanterns. While I'm standing there, two people roll up to a tent with full-sized rolling suitcases.These folks came prepared.

They've got great seats, the tent people; all they have to do is stay put along the route and wait until tomorrow.

I have it in mind that I might chat with them. Maybe ask them why they're doing this, how long they've been here, whether they're excited, whether people think they're nuts.

The only problem is that most of them are, as I watch them, talking to reporters.

Enlarge Chris Jackson/Getty Images

Kate Middleton and Prince William visit Whitton Park on April 11, 2011 in Darwen, England.

Chris Jackson/Getty Images

Kate Middleton and Prince William visit Whitton Park on April 11, 2011 in Darwen, England.

There's a very funny comment attached to yesterday's post about London, in which someone points out that apparently, some media outlet or other "did a minute and a half on the vacuuming of Westminster Abbey." To all who lament this particular kind of fixation on finding an angle — ANY angle — on which to hang a story, I say: I am with you.

Whether it's the "It turns out that this international incident that took place in Paris hit close to home for someone right here in Oconomowoc, Wisconsin!" story on the local news, or, yes, the vacuuming of Westminster Abbey, it can be trying.

But let me posit something else, which is that it wouldn't be unreasonable to give people a break for looking forward to watching the royal wedding.

Look, you can blame Disney for Disney princesses, but you cannot blame Disney for princesses. Storytelling about princesses — or girls who grow up to meet princes — goes back a lot farther than Disney. Or cartoons, or television, or the all-in all-the-time environment that brings you "The Abbey Vacuumed: A Special Investigation."

Storytelling about princes and princesses — and their equivalents — goes back considerably longer, in fact. It is not a product of the American media. If you don't believe me, ask Andromeda.

Moreover, I keep hearing that (some) Americans are more interested in this wedding than (many) actual British people, which I'm sure is true, and which makes sense as well. Let me ask this: How often do you read about the British monarchy from the incredibly America-focused American popular-culture machine? I would venture to say that relatively speaking, the answer is probably that you don't hear about them all that often.

Yes, for a few years, there was the occasional Prince Harry Is At It Again tale, and back when Diana was alive, she was obviously heavily covered, both in life and in death.

But these people, the ones getting married? William? How many times have you actually heard William's voice? If you heard it on the radio, would you recognize it? I doubt I would. I certainly wouldn't recognize Kate Middleton's. Compared to our own celebrities, who are always popping up on late-night television and in magazines to talk about themselves, we barely know these people. And that, it seems to me, is a bit of a relief.

American media has a chokingly chatty relationship with the famous. They talk constantly to us. They're interviewed, they're on DVD extras, they're making their own perfumes, whatever. And sometimes, this is fantastic — I love it that actors go on Fresh Air and talk about their work for an hour at a time.

But everything has ups and downs, and the trade-off here is that what you don't get with this approach is any sort of remove. You don't get to romanticize public figures in the way you can when they talk a lot less. (This is not to condone the romanticizing of celebrities as a good thing; it's to argue that this isn't a phenomenon that's been ginned up for this wedding, and it far predates Ryan Seacrest.)

The paparazzi, of course, follow the royal family doggedly; we need not repeat the stories of that, I don't think. But they don't chatter back all the time. They'll do an interview now and then, but for the most part, they're not yip-yapping in public about every last thing that comes into their heads. It's kind of quaint, when you read regularly about celebrity sex tapes, to see people who issue official palace statements when they have something to say instead of calling TMZ.

It's perfectly logical that this event has raised questions about the monarchy and whether it should continue to exist, and about lavish ceremonies during bad economic times, and about whether "The Abbey Sucked Clean Of Lint" should really be dominating the news. Absolutely fair questions, absolutely.

But if you find yourself saying, "I cannot imagine why anyone is interested in this story of young love involving a handsome prince who has experienced terrible adversity and now seems to have found love with a beautiful young woman who undoubtedly never expected to become royalty," try to pause on that bafflement and think about how how much sense it makes.

It's not necessarily correct or brutally rational to be touched by all this, and if we knew more about it, it would undoubtedly lose some of its luster. Indeed, for actual British people who have to contend with their own form of government and the consequences thereof, the frustration makes more sense to me.

But the buttons a royal wedding pushes at some level were not installed by E! and are not unique to crass American consumerism. There's a reason why royalty, going back as long as royalty has existed, frequently goes hand in hand with pageantry. (This despite the fact that British royal weddings specifically have certainly not always been the hootenannys you see today.) Enjoying a certain amount of ceremony and ritual — big dresses, military uniforms, horses in formation, music in a chapel — is not a sign that the end of civilization is upon us. In fact, it has a fairly long history as part of any number of civilizations that did not have cable.

Don't get me wrong: There is an entirely reasonable debate about how much fixation on which aspects of an event like this makes any sense at all. But being utterly confused about how a big fancy event centered around a love story between two pretty young people gets anyone's attention? Seems a little silly to me.

Enlarge Linda Holmes/NPR

Monkey on the move: As you will know if you follow @nprmonkeysee on Twitter, Linda Holmes is being accompanied on her London trip by a monkey whose name her editor has just realized he does not know. It is just possible that there will be photos of him at certain landmarks.

Linda Holmes/NPR

Monkey on the move: As you will know if you follow @nprmonkeysee on Twitter, Linda Holmes is being accompanied on her London trip by a monkey whose name her editor has just realized he does not know. It is just possible that there will be photos of him at certain landmarks.

Greetings! Cheerio! Tally-ho! Other annoying tourist-y sayings that will get me punched!

I have arrived in London, where I will be until Saturday, checking out the town and the whoop-dee-doo surrounding the Royal Wedding on Friday. (In case you haven't heard, Prince William is getting married. Probably you've heard.)

So far, I have to concur with those who have noted that London is not, in fact, in any particularly giant tizzy, as of 48 hours before the big event.

I'm pretty centrally located near the river, where I must admit there are a lot of people around. (Some of those those people occasionally do silly things. I think the folks who were inspired to simultaneously turn and take photos of the clock tower as Big Ben bonged away will really enjoy my audio recordings of the Mona Lisa.)

I think I have already walked through about four thousand people's photos (sorry, people!), but there is literally no way to get from one place to another except through people's photo opportunities. Not because of the wedding, but just because of London, I think.

Certainly, the little area where you wait in line for the London Eye is overrun, and there seems to be some spillover to nearby attractions like the Aquarium (I had the pleasure of hearing a kid say, "I KNOW where the Aquarium is, Dad — I'm a Jedi").

But other than souvenir shops, which are thick on the ground near me — I think I saw four during a two-block walk hunt for a blasted plug adapter after realizing I brought the wrong one — you wouldn't necessarily know that there's anything out of the ordinary happening this week.

Based on the enthusiasm on the part of American cable networks and syndicated entertainment news programs, I half expected to see the coffee places selling Royal Vanilla Lattes or some such, and while I'm sure there's some of that, I haven't seen much in my early travels around town. (Which were, I should say, more extensive than necessary owing to my freakish ability to walk the wrong direction in any situation in which I am forced to intuit whether I should go left or right, and screwing up is much more dangerous when you can't just cut in any direction at any time owing to certain geographical features of the local area YES THAMES I AM LOOKING AT YOU.)

Enlarge Mario Testino/AP

This is one of two official portrait photographs taken of Prince William and Kate Middleton in November 2010 to mark their engagement. Their wedding happens on April 29.

Mario Testino/AP

This is one of two official portrait photographs taken of Prince William and Kate Middleton in November 2010 to mark their engagement. Their wedding happens on April 29.

I don't know if you guys have heard about it, but there's a wedding in London at the end of next week. It's on Friday, April 29. Some dude ... Bill, I think? And some lady with long hair?

But seriously.

Way back when Prince William and Kate Middleton got engaged, we talked here about whether royal weddings matter at all anymore, and let's get serious — they don't. Not as history. Not if you're putting them in the same category as diplomacy and medicine and catastrophe. Taken too literally, that's a dopey question, quite honestly. (And I can say that, because I'm the one who asked it.)

A royal wedding is, however, a pop culture event, and that's why I'm going to London.