Sorry About All of This

Sometimes I like to pretend that I'm really not just an big oaf so I will venture out of my house and try to get me some of that there culture stuff. I will on occasion make my way to a museum or I'll go to an opening at a gallery (especially when Sistah Soul-Jah is in the show). This story is about a time that I went to see a show my sister had some pieces in at Mass Art (where she did her undergrad work).

I forget what year it was but it must have been around 1994 or so because The Wiff (then The Chick Who Lives In Sin) and I were still living in Allston and neither of us could drive yet (did I mention I didn't get my license until I was 25? I had? ok. Did I mention that The Wiff didn't get hers until she was 28? Yea, we lived in the city...didn't need a car). Aaaaaanyway...We get to the show and it's not a formal gallery or anything but a big open room where all the students were showing their work from the semester. I think it was work they were going to be presenting for a grade or credit. Isn't this a great story so far? Do you want me to go into more detail about what I was wearing that day or which way I faced on the Green Line trolley? Why do you read this stuff anyway? Sorry, why am I abusing you for my lack of story telling abilities? Oh, right, cuz I'm a dick.

We got to the school and walked around the room checking out some of the pieces. There were these partitions set up around the room to create little spaces and nooks where they could display some of the artwork. These temporary walls were set up in big T, H, or L shapes around the room. The key word being "temporary" here. This will become clearer soon. I meandered around the place looking at the wicked good ahhhht and chatting with some of Mary's friends. There was this one really elaborate piece that was a big ol' 5–foot wooden cross (I'm trying to remember if it was a modified door maybe? I forget). The whole front was glass and it had this array of mixed media things inside. It was cool. I was enjoying being around creative people and seeing the stuff they were working on. I was standing next to one of the partition walls talking to someone when I decided to lean up against the wall. Yea...can you see it coming?

In my head this wall was a real wall and not a "temporary" wall so I REEEAAALLLY leaned into it. Did you know that the partitions that Mass Art uses in these situations are not only not designed to have some dude lean up against them but also have fucking wheels? I didn't. But I do now. I leaned on the wall and it immediately scooted backwards a good foot. I did a "Whooooop!!" and almost went over backwards. Then there was this sickening CRRRRRAAAAAAASSHH! and the sound of shattering glass. Everyone in the room did a collective GASP! and looked over to see what had happened. By this time I had recovered from almost landing on my ass and had moved over to the other side of the wall. There, on the ground, surrounded by a halo of broken glass and bits of wood was the 5–foot cross piece. "Oh holy fuck no," I thought to myself. "No, no, no, no." Oh yes, fatty. Yes indeed.

I went over to it and tried to lift it up to put it back. As I lifted it, everything inside of it (including some fragile glass pieces) came tumbling out, smashing onto the floor. It sounded like someone in a restaurant dropping every dish in the place. The instinct to "run, run away, quick! before someone sees you" was so overpowering that I probably looked like I was going to bolt at any second for awhile there. I was devastated but I was in much better shape than this poor piece of art. People came rushing over to help but there was little if anything that they could do. I kept asking who the artist was and if they were in the room. I just wanted so desperately to evaporate into the the air and not been seen anymore. Apparently the artist was not there yet but was going to come later. Oh boy. This is gonna suck.

I literally had no idea what I should do. Here I had just annihilated this person's submission to this show and they weren't even there to yell at me (it was back up against the wall but all of the contents were still spewed out on the floor in vague shape of a cross. People were kicking pieces of glass over into a pile so that they would be easier to clean up). Everyone in the place was being soooo nice to me actually. "Oh, they should have secured that better," they said. "Don't worry about it." WHAT? Were you not here when that fucking thing hit the floor? My ears are still ringing for shit's sake. I knew one thing for sure was that I couldn't hang around and wait for this person to make an entrance. I felt like I was going to throw up or cry or both (shut up Lisi). There was a guest-book at the show so I went over and I took up a whole page with my rambling apology. I left all my contact information and said that I'd pay for the damage or do a trade or something for fucking up so royally. I don't know how I thought I'd be paying for anything thinking back on it. I was making probably $10 an hour or so back then.

I went back over to the friends of the artist and apologized again for the hundredth time and they said "Don't worry about it" for the hundredth time and then I slinked out of there with The Wiff in tow. I remember walking over to the train station and sitting there waiting in silence. She didn't say a word but she put her hand on my knee as if to say "There, there my big clumsy dope of a boyfriend. It'll be all right." And it was eventually. But at that moment I thought I had become the most hated person in the world. The person never contacted me about the smashed cross so I guess I'm off the hook. Lesson learned: Determine the structural rigidity of a wall before attempting to lean against said wall, especially if there is a super-fragile glass-front cross propped up against it on the other side.