Saturday at the Met Lyrics by Ordinary Days Cast

DEB
Here’s one thing you should know about me.
My sense of direction is irrefutable
It’s a trait that’s so innate
That it’s absolutely indisputable
I always know which way is north, no matter where I go.
So I don’t understand why I can’t find my way through the f*cking Metropolitan Museum!

I got an email, “Dear Deb,
We should meet so I can give you back your book.”
Okay.
Another email, “Dear Deb.”

WARREN
“Dear Deb.”

DEB & WARREN
“We should meet somewhere in public so you won’t think I’m a crook.”

WARREN
“At the Met museum in room twenty-one there’s a landscape by Monet
You can’t miss it!
So I’ll see you there at half past twelve this coming Saturday.”

DEB
Okay, first of all.
Who doesn’t just say, “Let’s meet at Starbucks.”
The Met museum is friggin immense.
And secondly, the Met’s the only place in New York City
Where the traffic patterns don’t make sense.
Sure, they’ve got a map, oh, excuse me, a plan, as they call it
But it isn’t worth my spit.
You’d be better off following bread crumbs
Through this godforsaken museum.

JASON
Hey, come on, let’s go.
We’ve got a whole museum to visit.
We should probably pick up on the pace.

CLAIRE
Jason, we are at the Met
The thing that makes it special is
It takes a while to wander through the place.

JASON
This says to skip this room.

CLAIRE
Shhh…

JASON
Turn left and zoom to the suits of armor.

CLAIRE
This says that x-rays show an entire other portrait on the canvas below.
Isn’t that weird, how it just disappeared?

DEB
Excuse me, is that a Monet?

WOMAN
That’s a Manet.

DEB
Monet.

WOMAN
Manet.

DEB
Gah.

CLAIRE
He wanted to come here
He loves it, I know
Look, he’s running ahead like a kid in a toy store
And me, I’m here watching him go.
He likes the masters.
While I prefer wackier things.
So, of course we wind up in separate wings.
I should go find him
Not leave him alone
But I don’t know, lately, when he’s right beside me
I’d rather be off on my own
I mean, maybe I’m crazy.
But really, I think he’ll be fine
If he goes his own way
And I just go mine.

DEB
Excuse me, I’m looking for Gallery Twenty-One?

MAN
I think this is Gallery K.

DEB
K?

MAN
K

DEB
Aaah!

JASON
So much for Saturday at the Met
I thought I’d find her here
In search of modern art, and yet
I’m unimpressed by Clint and Dali
It takes a sharper eye
To paint things like they’re supposed to be
Give me a portrait where a face is a face
Don’t give me theories about negative space
Why would I care about what isn’t there?
Except where what isn’t there is Claire
I wish she’d look at this painting

CLAIRE
Look at this painting….

JASON
Describe what she sees

CLAIRE
How it swallows you up like a storm.

JASON
Is she moved by that column?

CLAIRE
Those orangey yellows

JASON
Or maybe those trees?

CLAIRE
Still, keeping you warm

JASON
Would she tell me she hates it?

CLAIRE
How everything shimmers red and carries you away

JASON
Or say something wrong?
Would it change our perspective
From the moment before?

CLAIRE
Why did we come here?
I’ll never know.
It’s like the colors in this painting might get lost
If he came in to say hello.

JASON
Hello

CLAIRE
Hello. Ready to go?

JASON
Oh, ready. Let’s go.

DEB
That stupid email, “Dear Deb,”
I don’t think I’m gonna ever find my book.
I’ve been wandering around for an hour
Or, well, twenty minutes.
And I think this was a trick.
I’ve been duped into spending my afternoon
In this awful, crowded, stupid, ugly, horrible museum.

WARREN
You must be Deb!