"Yeah," I say, "give me a call when you're about 20 minutes away."
-"OK."
::ring ring ring::
-"I just turned on to Balbo."
"You're that close already?" I was panicking, sopping up over-easy egg yolk as quickly as I could. No time to salt the stuff. Pack it in and roll.
My cousin had never been to the Art Institute of Chicago. I don't think she'd ever been to an art museum or gallery period. And when I finally got over there, she was ready for a good time. Glowing face. Always smiling. She was always the loudest person in vicinity.
She had no particular interests. Should we pay special attention to the French Impressionists? The Rennaisance? "Whatever! I just wanted to come here! And you know I couldn't convince my husband or son to go!"
When we got inside, it was like I lit a gunpowder trail into a fireworks shed. She zig-zagged across rooms, skipping corners and moving on. "OH! Look at THIS!!" She'd rush right up to something and point with her finger as if she wanted to simply stroke the air just next to the canvas.
Beep!
"Do you HEAR something?" she'd ask, nonchallantly inching her nose toward the paintings, and some little seismograph-alarm would start freaking out.
It took three rooms or so before I was able to point out that most paintings have little explanatory plaques next to them. Most said, donated by some rich people who need to have their names etched permantently on something besides their tombstones. Others has more useful information.
In a room of sculpture, there was a string hanging from the ceiling. Small, doll-sized clothes were attached to it at different intervals. I read the plaque aloud, and found that this artist's signature was hidden on the tag of the yellow dress on the floor.
"OH!" And before electricity jumped through my brain quick enough to get what was happening, my cousin lent over the protective, stay the shit away, string and moved to pick up the little yellow dress.
BEEP BUZZ HOLLER
It was like we were trying to escape from Alcatraz, and in zooms the Warden, a nice looking security lady that was annoyed by the sounds yet tickled by this mosquito in a nudist colony.
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