It’s a good thing my parents didn’t name me Grace. My latest example of being “not
grace” occurred in the Metropolitan Museum of Art, certainly a place for grace. Since our visit occurred during Covid restrictions, I was careful to have my vaccination record and ID in hand. Once that passed muster, we were herded to the purse/bag checking station.
I will first tell you that it was a cold, half rain-half snow day. So, I had my all-weather
hooded coat on, with the hood up. Because we were in the big city, I had the shoulder strap of my purse over my head and resting on my left shoulder while the purse was secured on my right side. Then I had wrapped my thick wooly scarf around my neck, over the coat and tied it.
I reached to pull my purse off my shoulder and managed to pull my scarf over my face,
the purse strap now entangled in the scarf and coat hood. Fortunately, the purse checkers had a sense of humor. “Do we need 911?” One asked. The second replied, “Maybe the jaws of life.” And, “It’s okay, we’ve got you.”
In an earlier year, I might have died of embarrassment, but having lived my graceless life
so long, I only began to laugh. Eventually I was untangled and lived to see the glory of the Met.