Downtown and disgruntled

Friday night was ArtWalk. Generally speaking, I enjoy the event, because it's not often I get the opportunity to go look at art. Sure, there's the joy of looking at a tree and thinking to one's self: Wow! That's pretty. But that's about the extent of my art appreciation.


A friend of mine had asked me to go with her to explore some of the new collections being displayed. Since the man wasn't due off work until after 9, it seemed like a great idea. Oh how wrong I was.


Somehow, my brain experienced a lapse equal to that of, oh, the Grand Canyon. I HATE public places during large-scale events. People are rude, inconsiderate, and just plain dumb. You don't believe me already? Here are a few of my choice examples of the weekend.

Gallery one:
Politely waited at the door while those inside wished to come out. What I forgot was that there were teenagers in town...er, existence. Unbeknownst to me, the lesson of "wait your turn" has been removed from public schools. Not only did we wait for the 10 people coming out of the gallery to exit, we had to wait for 10 other people who decided that my holding a door for my one friend was their cue to barge past me.


Please note, I'm a generally nice guy. I tend to open doors for ladies. I tend to even grab the chair at a restaurant, if the opportunity arises. My boyfriend has been visibly flustered by my willingness to do the same for him (apparently guys don't do nice things for one another; I somehow was left out of that memo). I even--hold your gasps, please!--unlock the passenger side door for guests entering my car. One rule does apply, though. Generally speaking, if I'm kind enough to unlock your door before walking around to my side, it's a good idea to unlock my door once you're in.



These same teens had dissapate from the entryway. Forget that there's a wide-open floor in front of us; they couldn't be bothered to move more than 3 feet from the door. Perhaps there was an invisible forcefield of which I wasn't aware. I tend to be oblivious to things like that when there's OPEN SPACE.


We wandered the gallery for a good twenty minutes. Some of the art was great; some of it was okay. One piece really intrigued me, so much so that I commented to my gal-friend, "I really REALLY like this." Looking closer at the description card, "And apparently so does the artist!" My friend looked closer, and she, too, nearly fell over. Having studied art in college, she has a better grasp on these things than I do, but if you're not Picasso, $12 THOUSAND for a painting is just a lot of money.

Leaving the same gallery was equally daunting. In addition to the ten people trying to come in--at least they were somewhat nicer about letting people out!--we had to wait for the (wait for it...) TEENAGERS who immediately gathered at the door to filter out, despite our being IN THE DOORWAY.

Walk this way:
We begin wandering the streets. Passing small shops and restaurants, we come to a small-scale parking garage. Just before we get to the driveway of said garage, we see a car pull out from the garage and up to the street. It's not enough to wait in the busy traffic area to allow pedestrians to cross in front of him. He blocks the sidewalk.

In an effort I can only claim must have been meant to impress little ol' me and my gal-pal, he revved his puny-ass engine. I've heard mice farts louder and more impressive. (My brother used to work at a tire shop...I know what a good engine sounds like...and that wasn't it.)

We begin to advance on the car, our thought being to walk behind the car and around it. No go. Another car decides to pull his bumper less than twelve inches from the car in front of him. At this point, I don't care. I'm crossing here, and I've already lost my ability to get on the sidewalk. The traffic isn't moving quick enough for the car in front to get on the street. I'm going.

Because we had to squeeze our way between the cars, I'm a little thankful my gal-pal has good boobs. I'm sure that gave the second driver some distraction as we crossed. Otherwise, he'd probably have busted my knees.

Gallery 2:
We got past the garage without any major damage. Unless you consider inhaling other people's cigarette smoke damaging. Personally, I'm a fan of breathing (moderately) fresh air. I'm weird like that.

We find another gallery, this one in a loft area of a building. I'm kind of excited, because it looks like an interesting collection. we get up the stairs, and for some reason I am as yet unable to explain, there's a basic rule. IF YOU GO INSIDE A ROOM, GET AWAY FROM THE DOOR. People want to come in, and others wish to exit; if you stand in the doorway, you prevent both from happening.

My gal-pal looks at me with a "which way" glance. I poke forward, the path of least resistance--and people...which happens to lead to a fairly open space. Within mere seconds, we're enjoying sculptures, glasswork, and paintings. A minute later, we've bumped into friends, and everyone's having a great time. I'm feeling good, and enjoying the art. Until I see the piece that looks like it landed on a shelf straight from Beetlejuice.

I'm simply saying that it's not my taste. Anything that is a small sculpture with nothing but bird heads, which also serves as a serving dish or vessel of some sort....well, it's just creepy.

Thankfully, we were able to leave there quickly.

The rest of Friday was pretty basic. My man and I got together for a very late dinner at one of our favorite restaurants. We went for a brief walk afterword, hoping to catch a last glimpse of some of the galleries still open. We didn't have much luck, but it was nice to peek in windows, anyway.

We enjoyed downtown so much at that hour, we decided to head back the next night for a movie, drinks, and dinner.

Again, I'm a nice guy. I typically stand at the corner intersection, despite a crosswalk, and wait until the traffic has dissapated until I begin to cross the street. (Even growing up on a farm oustide of a VERY rural town, I know to look both ways before crossing! Maybe an overprotective mom isn't such a bad thing!) But I forgot how dumb some people are.

Just as we have waited for the traffic to clear out a little, we begin to walk across the street. There's a stop sign, so we aren't too worried about being run over. Until we see some sweet little brunette who decided her getting onto the one-way downtown was far more important than following something like traffic laws.

Literally 2 feet from our being at her car, she pulls in front of us, blocking off the crosswalk. We had to go around her.

I'm sure she figured that her being reasonably attractive--and behind the wheel of a car--would get her somewhere. But, honey, you got two gay men walking by you. We don't notice either...nor would we wish to.