At the instigation of a Japanese-Korean neighbor, who I really do not care for as she seems to have an opinion on how we should do anything and everything, I went yesterday to the National Art Gallery to see some show on Japanese art, that was to end that day.
Arrived near 10 am only to discover the museum opens at the gentlemanly antiquated hour of 11 on Sundays. Ok, no problem, I’ll just park myself on the front steps for a nice sunny hour and watch the show of pedestrians, joggers and dog walkers on the National Mall.
Come 11, the doors open, I enter and go downstairs to where the entrance to where the exhibit is, to find I cannot enter, but have to go the end of the line, which I discover stretches waaay beyond the doors and nearly around the block.
Having already waited an hour and estimating I’d be in the line for at least 40 minutes, decided I have better things to do with my life than wait docily like the other sheep in the line, especially as what was on exhibit, wasn’t really something I am interested in Japanese artwise.