NYC Greenwich Village Pride Parade & also Giacometti at the Met

So. We didn't proactively do any Pride related activities today. 

I say proactively because it is frankly hard for us not to accidentally participate. We live right in the thick of the whole shebang. 

The parade gets staged right out front our building and then it ends a few blocks away. So yeah. It's a dawn till dusk type scenario where every time we leave, we gotta take ID because there are barricades and police and we can't get back to our apartment without showing proof of residence. 

Luckily the "proof" is pretty loosely defined or we'd still be out there.

I left without ID but they let me call the doorman to vouch for me. It was awkward as fuck. Now I'm going to have to give a big ass holiday tip.

Tom showed a UPS alert he had on his phone with the address. This was a far superior plan to mine for reasons of finance and also it was a lot faster.

After the first border patrol incident, we got smart and started telling the officers as we exited the barricade area that we would be back soon... and they mostly remembered us. Although they started calling Tom "Sunglasses" which I found oddly charming.

You'd think we would have remembered this whole fracas from last year. Or the year before that. Or... yeah. Because every first time we get stopped by the cops on the end of the block I have an "Oh yeah!" deja vous moment. WE GO THROUGH THIS EVERY YEAR. Face palm.

So, right, on one hand, I'm writing a blog post right now. On the other, I'm laying down some documentation so history doesn't repeat itself yet again. We'll see if I have any recollection of doing this, since apparently every year it's like 50 First Dates with the proof of residence. If I can't remember that, why would I remember to check the blog for key pride parade law enforcement details? I'll leave that as a rhetorical question because we must move on.

My favorite Pride outfit.
Feathers! Golden headgear!

In a total surprise move to everyone including ourselves, we suddenly decided about 3:30pm to go to the Met to see Giacometti by the Temple of Dendur. Look, it was maybe an odd choice and we should have just spectated and joined a little revelry around the 'hood. 

But alas. We had no glitter and I'd already seen someone dressed like a full on slutty angel with at least a six foot wingspan of white whispery billowing fluff go down the stairs to the subway and tickle the necks of everyone coming up the other side. That single incident felt like a strong enough contender to check the box on the day.

The thing was, we had to get a move on it because the Met closes at 5, but I was thinking if we went late that it would be less crowded. I'm not sure if that proved true, but we taxed ourselves hauling ass across the park. It was almost 4:15 by the time we got ourselves through the entrance and past all the mummies and Ishtar cat goddess statues and rolled up to the Temple of Dendur.

Giacometti in the Temple of Dendur.

Giacometti is famous for these really spindly statues that you can see in the foreground. Apparently he studied ancient Egyptian statuaries and hieroglyphics that inspired his work which is the rationale for the Dendur juxtaposition. 

I had seen a huge Giacometti exhibit at the Guggenheim a bunch of years ago, so the scale of this exhibit did not feel expansive but I'm a kind of an asshole apparently because the Met was very proud of itself to have collected fifteen or something Giacometti statues.

What was impressive was seeing them in the Temple of Dendur area. I've never seen anything in there before. It's a pretty glorious space with the lighting and the ancientness and fame of the place.

After checking out this main attraction, we wandered out through the American wing because I can look at the Tiffany windows by Agnes Northrup all day any day:

The details and the colors!

Then we went through Britain 1500-1700 and out through the Great Hall with everybody else getting the boot at closing time. We all went peaceably.