Date 17 - Constantine at the Museum

I was in some sort of
shape, anyway.

On the day after St Patrick’s Day, I woke in my own bed with a semi-blistering headache and my tongue firmly pasted to the roof of my mouth. Considering the staggering amount of whiskey I had the night before, I was in pretty good shape. I should have been ready to die. I chalked my good fortune up to quality whiskey, and lots of bread and water. Still, I wasn’t 100% when I rolled out of bed on the morning of my museum date with Constantine. I brushed my teeth a few times, took a crazy hot shower and made my meandering way downtown.

I meandered because I forgot that parking downtown is not free on Saturdays. For whatever reason, I took exception to this in my hungover state. So I drove to the museum and then away from it in ever-widening circles until I found a free spot. I call it Fibonacci’s approach to parking, or utter idiocy, depending on my mood. I then had to walk 10 blocks to the train, wait around for 10 minutes, and walk another block to the museum. All in the name of free parking. Yes, I am a twit.

Constantine was waiting for me in a coffee shop. I smiled apologetically at him and he asked if I wanted to order a drink. He then asked about St Patrick’s Day, and I got distracted and didn’t bother getting a drink. We discussed museum strategy. Apparently he had seen something recently where a professional tour guide explained the best approach to exploring a museum. You’re supposed to zoom through everything, not stopping to read any placards or wasting time absorbing details, then you take a break for lunch. At lunch, you’re supposed to think about what sparked your interest. After lunch, you go back and thoroughly explore the exhibits and pieces that you were truly interested in, with enough energy to sustain you.

We totally ignored all aspects of this strategy.

 

Constantine had a membership pass that got him in for free. He has lived in this city for 6 months and has a membership at the museum. I’ve lived here for more than six years (this time, and a grand total of 10 years) and I have never been. At all. I suspect I am culturally out of my league.

Without discussing it, we opted to systematically wandered through exhibits counter-clockwise, starting to the right of the staircase. We pointed some things out to one another, chatted a little, and I tried to learn as much as possible. The Asian exhibit was interesting, as we’d both been to Asia, but different places.

My rookie mistake: I neglected to put food in my hungover belly. I had made muddled plans to grab fast food breakfast on the way to the museum, but I’d been distracted by parking. So after a couple of hours of wandering, my energy began to wane.

Only one more floor to go!

There was a studio apartment-sized room with West African art that made me happy and reminded me of Senegal and my godmother. The vast majority of the pieces were hand carved wooden sculptures with exaggerated features and long lines. That was probably my favourite part.

 

Constantine was pretty much constantly in his element, with tidbits of information and an impressive amount and variety of background knowledge. That is, until we came to the military exhibit. I found it funny that two pacifists would be walking through a massive display of armour and weapons and uniforms. I mostly looked at the leatherwork, the stitching and the footwear. Some of the swords looked insanely unwieldy, and the guns seemed like a fantastic lot of work and engineering and art distilled into something to kill people with. It was a definite downer.

 

Ravenously hungry and now a little depressed, I slogged on through the final exhibits. When Constantine announced, “Yay, rocks!” at the geologic exhibit entrance, I bit back any comment, for fear it would sound (or worse, be) sarcastic. To be fair, it was one of the best. Rocks are weirdly awesome. Strange shapes like delicate silicate feathers or bubbles in chocolate milk, and wild colours like an acid trip made manifest. We got to the section of valuable gems, and agreed that they were the least impressive.

Geodes rock

We left the museum and started walking. We were sort of looking for a place to eat, sort of wandering in the direction of my car, sort of just not paying attention. We did this for about 20 blocks until I took charge and led us to a diner for sustenance.
 

I suspect that Constantine does not dine out as much as I do. He didn’t seem to know what to expect from a diner. My hungover instincts knew exactly what to expect. Greasy deliciousness. I got breakfast (at 3:45 in the afternoon) and he got a blue cheese burger. I inhaled my eggs and hashbrowns and then took some time to breathe and think and look around while putting raspberry jam on my toast. I noticed that the cooks were clearing everything up, and our server turned away some people at the door. It was 4:00. They wanted to close. Constantine was still eating, we were talking and going on our usual tangents. I realized they’d ask us to leave at any minute. For some reason, this made me anxious. As though being asked to leave would be a problem. Not sure what my worst-case scenario looked like, being tossed out and forbidden to ever come back because we delayed closing. I paid the tab.



And never come back!

We talked about a famous scientist I’d never heard of (How do they decide someone is famous, anyway? Shouldn’t that mean that the average person (i.e. me) would have heard of him?) and we discussed the idea of a mind’s ear, and disagreed on whether or not we have free will.

When Constantine was finished drinking his grapefruit juice, we left the diner and wandered toward my car (A mere three blocks away, so convenient!). I offered him a ride home, but he hugged me goodbye and said it was a nice day for a walk. I agreed, but drove home and had a nap instead.