We were discussing the noxious revelry of St. Patty's day and it mem'ried me of the last game I played in a "social" bowling league. Social means alcohol and they give awards of equal standing for breaking 100 on the lanes or winning at beer pong after the game is over. It was the first time I had been to the post-game bar and I was disappointed to find all the college kids who never wanted to stop playing flip cup and beer pong now fading into their thirties with guts bumping their cups off the table. No talking, just shouting and high fiving and screaming at the football game on tv. I was overwhelmed and anxious; I finished my beer and took leave. I went to the MOMA where interesting looking people of all ages and colors and sexes walked calmly and talked softly and stared at a lady emerging from a cocoon of sorts.
"The Clock", a 24 hour movie that tracks time, was playing for it's final day and the museum was closing in one hour. As I followed others into the line, an attendant told us that, given the length of the line, we probably wouldn't make it inside. The others turned away but I decided to stand and wait. Wait for the opportunity to watch the clock tick. Wait, knowing that the thing we were waiting for would never come. And that made me appreciate the people I stood next to and their idle banter.\
I love museums not for the art on the wall but for making me see the art once I step out the doors and back onto the street. Here I was brought back into the appreciation of everything simply by being excluded from the art. It's as if the payoff was shifted one step back in the sequence, notably similar to the experience of drug addiction. In drug addiction, cues such as seeing a pipe would give a rush of dopamine and encouraging the use of drugs. In my case, I was so built up that after 15 minutes of basking in the profound beauty of people waiting in line, I snuck around to the back and walked through the exit just long enough to catch a few frames of time flickering past.
