So the Met Ball was last night. I wasn’t there (I came up a few dollars short of the $25,000 ticket price), but about six years ago, when I was still a student, I worked security at the gala to earn some extra bucks. It was one of the strangest events I’ve attended. I had to escort Nicole Kidman and Jean Paul Gaultier through the Costume Institute exhibit, making sure that no one disturbed them. As they strolled through the exhibit, Gaultier kept his hand on the shoulder of a short Japanese boy who remained at his side for the entire evening. Everyone acted like that was normal.
At the end of the night, one of the guests had too much to drink, and I was tasked with throwing the drunk guy out of the party. I took the man by his tuxedo sleeve, led him toward the exit and offered to get him a cab. As we made our way out, he stopped and looked at the backside of the above statue. After gazing at it for a few seconds, he angrily muttered, “Oh, hello Mother,” and then kept walking. I didn’t laugh or smile, but I did think, “That’s the funniest thing I’ve ever heard.”