my sisters and i joined the line for moma's rain room (a temporary installation in which fancy tech creates the experience of walking through a downpour without getting wet; it's dazzling, and it's been wildly popular) at something like half past noon this past friday. it was (old-fashioned) raining (on the outdoor line) at the time, and a staffer with an umbrella and an impeccably-cut mackintosh approached me. "just so you know," he said, "the wait is about three hours right now." i grimaced. "no, you don't understand," he whispered. "that's the best it's been for a week." we ended up waiting a bit less than that, in fact, and it was...quite nice, all things considered? as kidchamp dot net is obviously above all things a destination for practical data, allow me to share some strategic information. if you intend to rain-room,
bring pals, three if you can; that way two of you can peel off to explore the rest of the museum (or forage for provisions, or use the bathroom) while the other two perform feats of strength for each other, or play cards, or argue about the new daft punk album* in line. the line must include one member of your group at all times, but beyond that you're free to come and go as you please, provided that you hang on to your ticket.
bring layers. i wore a short-sleeved silk shirt and suffered. misty, late-spring rain gets into your bones when you're standing in it for a long time, even if you've got an umbrella.
bring booze. i'm not saying you should whip a bottle of wild turkey out of your purse, but if, say, you jog up to the columbus circle american apparel in search of a cheap cardigan and pass both a liquor store and a starbucks on the way back, you should bring your sisters fortified coffee.
bring a real camera. it's pretty dark in the rain room, and most cameraphones aren't fast enough to take decent photos. unless you're deft with baggies or a wild kingdom-style photographer's tent, moreover, you've probably never shot in the rain with good equipment; do it now. speaking of,
bring a crossword puzzle, or some origami projects, or the sunday times book review. dancers in the rain are nice and all, but they can get wet; it rains in every dance movie ever made. if you just want to be cinematic, like, recite roy batty's speech from the end of blade runner. i say use the special circumstances to make something new.
*meh.
9 comments:
it does make me laugh a little to think of new yorkers waiting 3 hours in the *actual* rain to get into the rain room
That photo is perfect. And I'm impressed by your line stamina.
See, that's what I forget, living in Iowa. When you have access to all the cool things, so does everyone else and you have to WAIT. Not great at waiting anymore.
all: i hear the waiting is more like six hours for non-members (museum members get to go to the front of the line) at this point.
i think it helps that my sisters and i hadn't spent time together in new york for ten years, so we were happy doing just about anything. also, there's the disneyland training; when you grew up knowing the wait for space mountain could be two hours, you develop a rich inner life (and learn not to lock your knees). rachel, did that happen to you?
i so want to do it, but i'm SO unmotivated. reading this post may have been enough ...
What is it with not locking knees? I lock my knees when I have to stand for hours.
Also, this makes me want to visit NYC again.
And it's really meh? that is disappointing.
Wow. That is an astonishing photograph. I'd wait for 3 hours. I waited longer for Bruce Springsteen tickets in the 80s, to the point where the nighttime sprinklers turned on and we were all suburbanrained on.
rob, i don't think everyone's susceptible, but it's a blood-pooling-in-your-legs thing. the one time i've passed out while standing at attention (in a flag ceremony ) i did in fact have my knees locked, but i was also probably dehydrated; who can say?
on the meh, i'm pretty hard on dance music. YMMV.
lisa, as you know, i love peoplewatching; if the cause is worthy, queuing's no problem.
Embrace membership and arrive before it opens, I say. I waited for a mere hour or so--at the weekend, even--with George Eliot and an iced coffee. A pleasant morning, if you're the type to up and putter early.
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