I just tried to see the Canstruction exhibit at the World Financial Center. I say "tried" because I completely failed to see the exhibit. But I had a pretty excellent failure (obviously, because it's me).
Have you ever tried to walk toward the Financial Center at rush hour, through the masses of suits flocking the hell out of there? I highly suggest it. It's a lot like the Come Together scene in Across the Universe (check out 2:05ish below), where the city is a beautiful mad choreographed mish-mash of people fighting to get around everyone else -- but way messier. I was tempted to grab some speakers, stand on a stool with a baton, and start directing the messy dance.
At the crosswalks on this street, there are policemen at every corner who actually put up chains to stop crazed businessmen from crossing in front of cars. They're like those vested crosswalk monitors at elementary school (I rocked at this duty), but they require giant yellow chains instead of little flags to hold back the angry commuters.
When I got to the Financial Center, covered in the sweat of the 1% aspirers (you know, as opposed to us satisfied 99% neo-hippies), the very adorable guard informed me that the building was unfortunately closed to visitors for the day. Why? Apparently when Bloomberg kicked the protesters out of Zucotti Park this morning, they threatened to rush the World Financial Center.
"Really?" I flirted (or, attempted to flirt), "Do I look like a protester?"
Adorable security guard looked at my now pink-streaked hair, oversized glasses and leather jacket. "Um," he said, in a very politically correct way (making him the new love of my life, for this hour), "well, it's closed to everyone, see. It'll be open again tomorrow. But you can see that sculpture through the window, there."
In the window was a slightly disappointing Amex cube sculpture, which the guard assured me was made of 16,000 cans. Or possibly 1,600; I'm not so great with remembering things like this.
Obviously, after being denied my evening festivities because of Occupy Wall Street, I had to head over to the park to check out how my unshowered, idealistic friends were doing. This, however, is for another post; I have a lot to say about Occupy Wall Street. I do promise that by the time I got home, after my squishy, moshpit-like adventures surrounded with the cologned Financial Center suits and the hundreds of voluntary homeless in Zucotti Park, I now smell like all 100%.
Have you ever tried to walk toward the Financial Center at rush hour, through the masses of suits flocking the hell out of there? I highly suggest it. It's a lot like the Come Together scene in Across the Universe (check out 2:05ish below), where the city is a beautiful mad choreographed mish-mash of people fighting to get around everyone else -- but way messier. I was tempted to grab some speakers, stand on a stool with a baton, and start directing the messy dance.
At the crosswalks on this street, there are policemen at every corner who actually put up chains to stop crazed businessmen from crossing in front of cars. They're like those vested crosswalk monitors at elementary school (I rocked at this duty), but they require giant yellow chains instead of little flags to hold back the angry commuters.
 |
| I was way cuter in my crosswalk monitor vest. |
"Really?" I flirted (or, attempted to flirt), "Do I look like a protester?"
Adorable security guard looked at my now pink-streaked hair, oversized glasses and leather jacket. "Um," he said, in a very politically correct way (making him the new love of my life, for this hour), "well, it's closed to everyone, see. It'll be open again tomorrow. But you can see that sculpture through the window, there."
In the window was a slightly disappointing Amex cube sculpture, which the guard assured me was made of 16,000 cans. Or possibly 1,600; I'm not so great with remembering things like this.
Obviously, after being denied my evening festivities because of Occupy Wall Street, I had to head over to the park to check out how my unshowered, idealistic friends were doing. This, however, is for another post; I have a lot to say about Occupy Wall Street. I do promise that by the time I got home, after my squishy, moshpit-like adventures surrounded with the cologned Financial Center suits and the hundreds of voluntary homeless in Zucotti Park, I now smell like all 100%.
No comments:
Post a Comment