Finding myself alone and with no plans on a rainy Friday morning, I swallowed my pride and took myself on a trip to the Metropolitan Museum of Art.
I had a couple concerns going on a solo date to the museum:
Concern #1: That I would feel awkward being alone and not know what to do with myself
Concern #2: That the place would be overrun with tourists and I would get annoyed
Concern #3: That being a Solo Female, I would be bothered by the other patrons (which happens in stores, malls, crosswalks, parks, etc.)
Concern Number Three was a bust: the only person who talked to me at all was the gentleman to whom I sheepishly shuttled my $1 bill for admission.
“One adult admission, please,” I chirped assertively.
“Ah, you live around here?” he smiled knowingly.
So far, so good: not being mistaken for a tourist always makes me feel like doing cartwheels.
As for Concern Number One, although I did miss being able to joke and discuss what I liked at the museum with a companion, I found that being alone has the advantage of being beholden to no-one. I had most of the American Decorative Arts wing completely to myself and I got to sniff my way up and down the aisles of – what, like YOU don’t like sniffing antique glassware? And I spent far too long in the Degas wing – only to back-trace my steps to spend TWICE as long there a second time! More on that some other time.
And whenever I felt awkward dawdling on a particular piece too long, I gave a thoughtful “hm” and took a picture, pretending I was some clever artsy person studying the artwork as inspiration which is not entirely untrue.
Concern Number Two was also largely unfounded as the museum seemed almost entirely deserted when I arrived at noon, but did get rather busy around 2pm when the rain started really coming down. I had to wait my turn to get close to some of the van Goghs and to take this picture in the new Islamic Arts wing: