You get these tasty guys. And some meatloaf. Also, if you’re me, you’ll get a drink that tastes remarkably like Triple Sec and gin because you took that sugar-water that the orange peel was simmered in and mixed it with a bit of gin (and by “a bit of,” I mean “probably too much.” And by “probably,” I mean “most certainly”).

(apologies for the dreadful pics; I could list all the excuses here, or I could just admit that there are already way too many cooking blogs with gratuitous photos and I simply don’t like competition so I’m posting crap shots)

First, rank everybody on Earth according to their intuitive grasp of how to move foot traffic most efficiently and quickly through a confined, confusing space. Then, collect the lowest million and set them aside–you’ll need them later. Build yourself a gargantuan palace consisting of seven thousand or so rooms, each designed to hold no more than a hundred people, and randomly connect them to two or three of their neighbors by anywhere from one to eight doors. Remember your million dullards? Go get them and cram them into your new palace. They won’t fit (the palace was only designed for a total of 700,000, remember?) but cram them in anyway. Make sure that many of them are traveling together in herds of about thirty. Tell each and every one of them that what they want to see is in a different room, but don’t tell them which room that is. Give them all maps in a language they don’t understand, in an alphabet they don’t recognize, and mislabel a few things just for kicks. Set up a few additional maps in high traffic but highly confined areas, and put a “you are here” button on them. In the wrong place. Turn off the air conditioning. You’re all set! Now get in there and enjoy the greatest (or maybe not) museum in the universe!

Tip: for even more accuracy, ensure that at least half of your guests haven’t bathed since the first day of the previous week and have been engaged in some activity like chopping firewood in a sweatlodge since then.