Beginnings are scary.

Endings are usually sad.

But it's the Middle that counts the most.

-- Hope Floats

Lost and Found at the Met

A recent Saturday found me with a day in Connecticut all to myself. Been there, done that...I needed to extricate myself out of Connecticut for my daughter was attending her father's wedding. I thought putting myself as far away from the trainwreck unfolding might be the best thing, because for whatever reason I found myself slightly humilated at the spectacle he was creating on his third trip to the altar.

I had thought of more than a few of my New England friends to join me on this day, but it was something I needed to do by myself. A certain, independent rite of passage and most certainly, a great adventure for any Southern Girl and to do it alone was like bungee jumping. I took a deep breath and made my decision. I was going to the city via the train and visit the new Greek and Roman Gallery at the Metropolitan Museum of Art. And in retrospect, I couldn't have spent a more fabulous day to get my mind off of the events unfolding.

I woke up, had a fabulous cup of coffee, borrowed a car and drove an hour over the NY state line to the MetroNorth Station in Katonah. The train station was the crossroads of the city ... quaint coffee shops, stationers, bistros, funky and expensive boutiques lined the picturesque town where Martha Stewart served her in-home sentence.

Taking the train into Grand Central was a breeze. I didn't play tourist too much, after arriving I got a quick visual of my surroundings, information desk, restrooms, foodcourt, newstand and headed outside to the taxi stand. The maize colored cabs streamed through the streets, I looked up and saw the Chrysler building and my heart really did skip a beat - I had arrived safely in Manhattan.

Should I go to the Empire State building? Should I walk down Madison Avenue? No, come back when you can share it with Katie and play tourist then - stick to your plan, I told myself, don't get overwhelmed. My turn came quickly in the cab stand, my senses were on sharp alert as I listened to the different dialects and didn't smell that landlocked city smell. The day was bright and the breeze was light. I humped in and gave the address - followed the street signs on the pocket sized map in my hand.

We whizzed through the city streets, I got tickled at the back and forth video-like game the cabs played with each other. I tried to glimpse down corridors passing by in blur and see the neighborhood flavor but before I could take in too much we had arrived. I was deposited at the steps of the Met paid my fare and stepped out into the bright day. I quickly gobbled down a hot dog from a bona fide street vendor and had to make myself sit down and take it all in. I did it. I HAD arrived. I tried to look cool and not appear to be too dumb-founded and act like Gomer Pyle - well, Gol-ol-ly, I was in NEW YORK CITY (channeling both Gomer and the salsa commerical at the same time here).

People-watching on the concrete steps was something I could have done all day, but galleries of famous and not so famous art awaited me. I had referenced a few pieces from this new exhibit in my research paper I had turned in the week before and presented some images of the collection in a graduate study presentation. I had discovered the new and improved collection from the NY Times that inadvertently sat on my desk for days, so I was extremely exciting about seeing it in person.

The first thing I noticed upon walking into the Grand Hall was that the place was buzzing. People checking bags, waiting on friends, talking on cells, inquiring minds at the information desk lent their voices to the white noise that echoed off of the arched ceiling.

After fumbling around at the information desk and audio tour station, I made it to the Greek Gallery right away - I wanted time to enjoy the entire collection. I got chills seeing some of the pieces we had only viewed in various multimedia collections. The funerary vases from the Geometric period were so much larger in life than I had expected. The expressions on the grave steles were so somber and personal that up close. I loved wandering from piece to piece and marveling that the works of a stonemason lived on these many centuries past.

Finally, I saw the many images of the Greek Gods - Herakles, Aphrodite, and the mighty Zeus. I may as well climbed Mt. Olympus than the steps of the Met.

Ascending to the 2nd floor, I found myself viewing the 19th century & European collections. Matisse, Monet and Van Gogh - nothing compares to seeing them in person. I wandered back down in search of the elevator I kept appearing at the front of this gate in the Medieval collection...

Like Dennis the Menace in the Family Circus comic strip, no matter where I wandered or followed the map or way-finding directions, I ended up back in front of this map, if I had redpaint on my feet they would have criss-crossed and landed at a big X. In a way I was lost and kept coming back at this crossroad. If I went to the left, right or went through it - somehow, I got turned around and landed at the open gates.... it was a minor frustration but resulted in showing me some of the other galleries that didn't particularly interest me. If not for standing in front of the gates and letting fate play it's course I would have missed some spectacular pieces.

Highlights of the day included the infamous Jackson Pollack piece, sculpture Gallery, the China exhibit, Egyptian tombs, and the rooftop garden...

The rooftop was particular exciting - seeing the West Side of Central Park stretch out across the vastness of the green space caused me to pause and realized I had never seen this part of NYC.

I wandered a bit more - sometimes I would sit and look at the details - seeing Washington Cross the Delaware was impressive and I appreciated the art students scattered throughout the gallery making notes and sketching away. What a wonderful classroom this turned out to be for all of us visiting that day. I found that I learned a lot about myself on this day as well.

Upon leaving I browsed in the gift shop but couldn't find anything that came close to representing the precious hours I had spent behind the Ionic columns of the museum's facade. I descended the steps, bought a kitchsy t-shirt for my girl and jumped in a cab & headed to Serendipity III.

I wanted to catch the Ford Escape Cab that looks like our car but couldn't get myself aligned correctly in the cab stand line. After assurances from my English speaking cab driver that I would be able to get a cab on this street, I jumped out to find a yound crowd gathered outside. The wait at Serendipity was 2 hours long - "Not bad," chirped a 20something from Long Island-probably drawn to the place like many - since it had become famous on the silver screen.

I couldn't wait that long - I went out to the curb and threw my hand in the air and yelled "Taxi" and tried to sound as commanding as possible, OMG - I actually hailed a cab all by myself!! One shrieked to a stop at my feet - wow - what power! I jumped in and headed back to Grand Central - tickled with myself - I longed to buy from the street vendors but played it safe and just headed back to my original destination.

Since this cab driver did not speak English - I kept my thoughts to myself - and I realized that I had been voicing an internal conversation with myself all day. I had really enjoyed spending the day with myself and doing something that in another time I would have been told that it wouldn't have been possible.

Back at Grand Central, I puttered around in the news stand - loving being surrounded by all those books, magazines and newspaper headlines, the words caught my attention and I circled the shop and read everything - downstairs I replaced the Frrozen Hot Chocolate craving with an even better piece of NY cheesecake. The girls behind the counter assured me I could go get a Starbucks and make my train in 12 minutes. "We told you," they laughed as I whizzed by 6 minutes later.

Heading northbound on the Harlem line, I relaxed and watch the stops roll by. I saw cars waiting for their loved ones to embark from the train, the dinner hour in full swing at cafes that lined the city centers and finally the quaintness of Katonah came into view. I was relieved to have found my way back safely. And not just to my destination either.