Last week in Florence, while visiting the National Museum of Bargello, a woman with no authority whatsoever had the nerve to ask me to step away from an exhibit case. She spoke in Italian, so I didn’t understand her reasons, but she seemed to be doing what just about everyone, everywhere is doing all the time: taking photos with a cell phone.
I wasn’t all that interested in what I was looking at. The Bargello is full of sculpture and religious paraphernalia, which are two things that rarely impress me, regardless of the level of fame or grandiosity involved. But, as a matter of principle, I took my time stepping aside.
Oh, I’m in your way? I thought as I studied a Monstrance out of spite. Well maybe you and your Samsung Galaxy 7 are in my way. I glared at the woman as I moved on a few seconds later.
“Please,” I said rolling my eyes. “All yours.”
What happened next was rather unexpected. Instead of whipping out her cell phone to take a photo, the woman assumed a pitcher’s stance and, without warning, threw a pack of cigarettes into the air.
I stared at her, my mouth agape. Was this a new Instagram trend I wasn’t aware of? Like, hands-free selfies, but instead of throwing a phone, a person just tosses around various personal items in public places? Is this woman going to get more social media cred for the unlikely combination of cigarettes in a world-class museum?
I watched in horror as she walked across the room, picked up her cigarettes and dusted them off. Then, without an ounce of concern, she removed a credit card from her pocket and threw that over a display case. I gasped.
The woman turned around and, by way of explanation, pointed to the rafters, where a pigeon was perched, completely unperturbed. She waved her arms furiously at him, then at me. “A BIRD!” she shouted, as if that wasn’t clear. I am not exaggerating when I say the pigeon was the most sophisticated being in the room.
“Oh you have got to be kidding me,” I mumbled under my breath as I stared at a pigeon set against the backdrop of a 600-year old ceiling. Two birds in two months. What are the chances?
My very next thought was that no one was going to believe this story. I looked around for Johann, but he was two galleries and twenty minutes back, as he most often is whenever we’re in a place of art. To get his attention, I held one hand over my head and walked brusquely through the railroad-style rooms, snapping my fingers as I went. He heard me before he saw me.
“What’s the problem?” he asked, apprehension already filling his voice. He knows me well enough by now to know that when I chase him down in a museum, it’s not because I want to talk about Picasso. It’s because I did something insane, like sat on a 13th century sofa or touched the walls of the Temple of Dendur. (Real events.)
“There’s a pigeon,” I whispered, pointing to the next room. “And there is a woman throwing her debit card at it.”
He raised his eyebrows.
“Not me,” I clarified. “The woman is not me.”
Johann, perhaps like many of you, seemed to think I was exaggerating. He sighed, then walked to the next room where, even at a distance, we could see the woman flick her credit card like a Frisbee directly into display case holding a crucifix. He gripped my arm.
“I know!” I said. “I can’t believe she thinks that’s a good idea. She should tell someone who works here.”
Johann turned to me and again raised his eyebrows.
“What?” I asked. “I tried to find someone myself, but I couldn’t. We’re the only ones here!”
“Oh, I think she works here,” Johann said. He motioned to the woman who was now running laps around the exhibits under the pigeon. “I think she’s the museum attendant.”
I mean no disrespect when I say that this woman could not have looked any less official. First of all, she was wearing a pair of jeans that had the word, “Love” emblazoned on one leg. To complete the look, she had paired a bright pink t-shirt, topped by an even brighter pink blazer. Her hair stuck out a full six inches from her head in all directions, which she tried, unsuccessfully, to control with a plaid newsboy cap. I’m not saying she was unattractive – I’m just saying she didn’t look professional. That she was throwing things around a national museum didn’t help.
“No….” I said, shaking my head. “She can’t work here.”
“She does,” Johann argued. I probably should have trusted his judgment since he himself works at an art museum and has met his fair share of creatives trying their hand at “traditional work”. But I couldn’t believe it. Dress code aside, the mere fact that a museum employee would give chase to a bird in a room filled with several million dollars worth of fine art seemed to fly in the fact of logic. Pun intended.
“Look at her,” I said. The woman was once again throwing her card into the air. “How do you know?”
“Well,” Johann said. “She’s throwing her museum ID badge.”
Despite my mounting experience, I’m no closer to understanding how to rid a room of birds. My track record for coaxing even a small one down a flight of steps or out an open window is questionable, so I don’t exactly have room to criticize the Italian gallery attendant for her methods. Not like I’d ever let that stop me.
Personally, I’m not sure that the real issue we need to solve is getting birds to leave. Keeping pigeons outdoors should not be a recurring problem in the modern world – by which I mean, Europe. America, for once, has a handle on things. We have taken the ingenious step of either closing our windows or installing screens – two simple solutions that Germans and Italians may want to consider before they lose a Michelangelo to a flock of turkeys.
Sound dramatic? Well maybe. But if it happens, don’t say I didn’t warn you. And don’t ask me to step aside.
I cannot believe that this is an actual event that happened.
Can you imagine the security camera footage?
Girl. I have LIVED the security camera footage. But yes, I would love to see it again. Unreal.
Thanks for reading – xx