Neb's Big Day in the Big City, Part Two

So, where were we? Oh, yes. Still in this fugging queue.

I should point out that this second queue wasn't even the entry line; it's only the line for paying admission. If we'd expected this, we would have sorted something out a lot earlier, but... what could we do?

Wait. That's what we could do. Apparently, that's what 15,000 other art patrons did over the same weekend, and I suspect half of those were in the queue with us...

Luckily, we'd brought our cameras into the gallery. I snapped a few shots of the gallery interior, just because it was a nice place to be (and we would be there for a few hours anyway):

This stained-glass cathedral roof inside the gallery was designed by Leonard French, and is apparently one of the largest stained-glass ceilings in the world. It's really stunning to stand beneath it, and I suspect it helped calm the mood of everyone in the line - we hardly heard any complaint from the people around us. (except for one guy who had medical problems and was very unhappy about being forced to stand for such a long time)

This was one of the central courtyards that was redesigned when the entire NGV had a facelift a few years ago. Doesn't look like much, but you can see a lot more catwalks and passageways across the third level. Perhaps not in this photo, but from other angles you could see them, and you never used to be able to reach the third floor. Anyway, it looks nicer now.

After the first hour or so, we started to question this whole "looking at priceless art" idea. We knew that the gallery had advertised the close of ticket sales at 3pm, and it was slowly dawning on us that we were unlikely to get to the ticket counter by that time.

My sister and her partner were with us - oh, did you forget? My sister wanted to come along with us, because she couldn't get to see it on her own terms (due to my mysterious illness) - and they were pretty sick of queueing by this stage. Given the choice of sticking around and waiting, or leaving the queue and enjoying what else Melbourne had to offer, they made the choice to bail.

I felt bad about that, because I knew they were very keen on seeing the Dalí artworks. But I understood their decision to leave and enjoy themselves, as they normally don't get the free time to do what they want - what with looking after my nephew, work, theatre stuff, and so on, it would have been foolish to spend a rare day off waiting in a line...

Meanwhile, the rest of us made the choice to stay. I had set my mind to it - I was GOING IN, even if I had to go all Clark Griswold on the Gallery and DEMAND they unpack the fricking works of art from their carry cases and HOLD IT UP until I'd had my fill... I. WAS. GOING. IN.

After TWO HOURS, we finally managed to grab our tickets (and guarantee access to the show)! And we were so relieved.

Until we remembered, of course, that there was a whole 'nother queue to wait in... sigh
I realise that this is a thoroughly boring post, but I promise you, we do eventually get to the good stuff. Stick around...

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(btw, just for giggles, here's what happened to someone else who decided to go and check out some Dalí in the company of the harshest critics. I mean, WTF? Who brings babies and infants to an art gallery?! Needless to say, our visit had nothing like this happen.)

Click for Part Three