There is a large staircase that runs alongside the atrium and gives an excellent vantage point to people watch. Normally I don't linger there excessively, but I got caught up by the music and the wonderful bowing technique that the fiddler was using. I was, to be honest, lost in my own little world where the only thing that existed was me watching a band.
That being said, in general the security guards try to keep people moving on the stairs to avoid traffic jams. One of them came up to me and very nicely asked me to either go all the way up or down the stairs, but not to loiter. I immediately trekked up the remaining steps and moved to the overhang where I could continue watching undisturbed. And yes, I did lean on the handrail so I could get a better look over the side of the guardrail.
Much to my chagrin, one of the... art chaperones? You know, the folks that make sure you don't try to touch everything in the galleries? Well, he came up to me in a state of fury and said that this was going to be the second reprimand and any further delinquent activity on my part would earn me an escort out of the museum.
Wow. I've been here before, and have engaged in these behaviours in the past without ever being told by off, much less being threatened by expulsion. Add to that the sudden shattering of my reverie, and I'm sure the expression I gave that gentleman was a classic bewildered and startled Gigi look, likely followed by the sad puppy dog eyes that I at one point used as a weapon of manipulation and defensive measure growing up. After all, no one had said anything about looking over, it was just traffic control that had been the issue, and I had responded immediately. I begged pardon, and moved promptly.
Gotta say, though, I was more than a little annoyed as well as mortified. It made me want to retreat back home, honestly. However, the band was playing a great song that I'm sure I've heard before, and the fiddle player was still going. So, I moved to another vantage point, kept as much distance between me and the glass rail as I could without blocking other people walking by, and proceeded to tap my toes and hum along.
Out of the corner of my eye, what should I see but the gallery guy coming right at me. "Well, crap!" thought I, "Are they seriously going to throw me out for standing here?!"
No, actually. He apologized. He talked to the first guy and realized that I wasn't trying to wilfully disobey instructions, I'm just stupid. It had been a long day, after all, with a lot more people running around than usual, a lot of them being folks who do wilfully disobey. While I don't think I'll ever call him up to go get coffee or anything, when I left he waved good bye and wished me well, and I did the same.
One thing is certain, I'm glad I didn't follow most of my initial instincts. What were they? Well, anyone who knows me knows that I'm very scattered in my thinking. This goes for reactions to threats. Initial instincts included the following:
- Leaving the museum angrily, as stated above
- Crying
- Beginning a protracted debate on what exactly the first guy had said
- Losing my temper and refusing to move
- Pretending I didn't understand English
Yes, all those options ran through my head in the span of a second. The music saved me, though. Because, seriously, when there's a fiddler around to listen to, you do what you have to do to make sure you don't blow that chance.
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