Locked Out

Went to the Target-sponsored Circle Event in the new Target Wing of the MIA on Saturday night. The Circle is the MIA new gambit to get “the young people” to come in and check the place out. (Target also sponsors most of the Walker’s “young people” events–the bullseye knows how to play both sides.)

They were going for a South Beach thing, with a Brazilian band on stage, tents and candles and pink lights out in the courtyard. Inside, there was a DJ and bronzed girls in ruffled-bottom hot pants on pedestals. I think the MIA may throw a better party than the Walker: The space was more conducive to a party than the Walker’s new addition–outside of the galleries, (only one gallery of early modern furniture was open) there are these rotunda spaces where people would mill around talking and dosing cocktails. The ticket was $45, which may have scared some hipsters away, but $45 for all the shrimp shish kabobs and rail gin you could put in your face isn’t a bad deal, and there was rarely a wait to get a drink. And there just wasn’t the general level of pretension that you can come across at a Walker After Hours. Maybe because they kept the galleries closed. I think I liked partying in a museum without any art–that way, you get the Truman Capote Black and White Ball buzz, without all the guilt over your personal ignorance. Ingenious, Target.
Afterwards, went to an after-party in Kenwood. Turned out to be only myself, an Irishman and one girl. A bad joke, literally. But at 3:00, we were having a cigarette on the patio, and the girl locked us out of her house. Which turned out to be a relative’s house, so she was scurred to break any windows. She did ask, “Steve, do you know anybody that can break in?” Evidently, you can cut the classism with a knife in Kenwood, but you just can’t cut any screens. I called about a million 24-hour locksmith places, and finally got The Lock Doctor to send over a surly 40-something Israeli locksmith (sweet blonde ‘tache though) at 3 AM. He ended up drilling through the deadbolt in the backdoor and charging this poor girl $140. $80 for the house call and $60 for the “unlocking” fee. Did she get ripped off? I mean, was there another option?


5 Responses

  1. This is what you start your new blog with? The State Fair and a rich girl getting locked out of her house? With the infinite choices of internet drivel produced each and every day I’m sure this engaging subject matter will have them rushing here in droves. Atleast you still have a link to Kevin Marsh, the wildly more talented brother.

    Stephen Hero? Are you a fucking sandwich, because son, you ain’t James Joyce.

    And what’s with the comments on the first piece? That dude quoting “The Lips” is fucking creepy. Now both you and your blog attract freak shows. Maybe “Lips” guy will actually turn out to be a mediocre looking gal with a penchant for dead eyed conversation and a taste for the china.

    Bye the way, this is Frank.

  2. Post-bartime one recent summer night in Uptown, I discovered that my oh-so-convenient electric car door locks fried out and I couldn’t get into my (Lake Street parked) car. I, too, ended up with a fetching Israeli locksmith who showed up with a winsome smile and dressed in what appeared to be his jim-jams. He had a really hard time time breaking into my car (a VW) with his little locksmith dealie, and I made a lame comment about how the Germans think of EVERYTHING. He glanced at me me and said “Believe me, darling, I know. I’m a Jew.”

  3. I locked myself out of my apartment 5 hours before I had to be at the airport for a flight, at 11 PM on a Saturday night. Numerous desperate attempts to get ahold of the emergency maintenance dude were for nought (I’ve met the guy before, and at that hour, I imagined him 10 PBRs deep at Decoy’s).

    After a hassle-filled flight reschedule, I called a locksmith to help me break in. The man that arrived was a desheveled young Eastern European guy, wearing an Adidas track suit, who proceeded to poke and prod at my lock with the tools of his trade until he was finally able to gain entrance.

    The whole ordeal set me back $140. I was ultimately able to justify the cost (who else was gonna do it?). At that point I was willing to pay whatever it took to get into the apartment. What left me a little bit concerned was that this guy had just broken into my damn apartment with ease! He followed me in to collect payment, at which point I grabbed my checkbook – nope, cash only. So he followed me to the ATM at Lund’s on Lake, and I secretively withdrew the requisite cash. Following my realization that this guy could easilt gain entrance to my place while I was gone (I’d mentioned the missed flight to him while making small talk), I was absolutely stone cold cagey when it came to casual banter.

  4. as-94783-sa

    great post, I couldnt have said it better!


  5. Thanks for sharing this information. Really is pack with new knowledge. Keep them coming.

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