A New York Tale

This morning my mom, brother and I headed off to the Museum of Natural History to see the much-touted Darwin exhibit. It was a rainy morning in New York so we took a cab from the train station to the museum arriving somewhat before 11am. The line outside was not long and we quickly entered the main lobby with the masses.  My mom's membership allowed us to avoid the long lines to purchase tickets and proceed directly to the membership desk. We want to see Darwin, said my mom.  Next tickets are at 2:30, said the ticket man, and there are only twenty left so you need to decide fast. No way we decided, we’ll just go over to the Met to see the Van Gogh drawings. We caught a cab outside and went back through the park to the Met.  Is that the line to get in, exclaimed my brother. The line for admission stretched not only for two blocks but doubled back on itself, there was no way we were getting into the Met today. The Frick is just down the road and nobody goes to the Frick, said my mom. So we told our cabdriver the change of plans and had him drop us at 71st street. The line to the Frick was only a block and a half long, little did we know it moved very slowly. Forty minutes the man in official uniform said, then an hour wait inside for the Memling exhibit. The three of us huddled under the one little umbrella I had brought, chatted with the neighbors and moved about 20 feet every fifteen minutes. Half an hour later we looked to be half way to the entrance, wet and cold. A guard came along passing out plastic ponchos, which my brother and I gladly accepted.  Without those ponchos we would have been completely miserable instead of just damp and chilly.

Once inside we checked all the cold, wet outer clothing and felt renewed but not up to waiting another hour in line for the special exhibit. I always enjoy the Frick.  It houses a fantastic collection of artworks in a beautiful, intimate setting. As we strolled the galleries a guard came up to my mom and asked if she had seen the Memling exhibit.  No, my mom said, we couldn’t wait in that line. Oh, said the guard, I’ll help you, just go to the desk and tell them you need an elevator. So mom acted a bit gimpy and sure enough we were escorted downstairs, through back hallways and popped out a door into the middle of the Memlings. It was a fantastic exhibit, made even more special by the kindness we received on a cold wet day in New York.