The Philadelphia Eagles: a football team, a franchise, a lifestyle, and now part of history. Amazing right? Their success was shouted from rooftops as mass hysteria surrounded Philly Sunday, February 4th 2018. People were streaking, climbing on poles, scaling buildings, screaming at the top of their lungs to show support for their favorite, newly crowned champions. The camaraderie that filled the city was absolutely encompassing.
Too bad I’m not here to talk about the Super Bowl.
While super fans were gearing up, pounding Natties, and gorging themselves on buffalo chicken dip to prepare for the historical game, I went into a frequented part of Philadelphia- The Philadelphia Museum of Art.
As the first Sunday of the month, Super Bowl Sunday was pay as you wish, meaning the entry charge could’ve been any amount of money you were willing to pay. So with about $10 (and a little help from my friend), I explored museum life in search for interesting people who weren’t dedicating their entire day to a piece of inflated cowhide.
Now don’t get me wrong, I love a bit of competition, and as a disclaimer, I genuinely like sports. But there is something intriguing about the people who are outside of the hysteria. What are they doing on this rainy Sunday afternoon? Why are they at the art museum instead of in their living rooms? Are they prepared for the city to burn down later? The basic questions.
As intended, the responses I received were as diverse and interesting as the art they were observing, or, in some cases, not observing. Though half of the living population was clad in Eagles gear, it seemed, the art museum was teeming with the usual: beanies, artsy pins, and angst. Beyond that, however, were some average looking twenty-somethings, older couples enjoying their weekend, and some very passionate art types admiring the collections.
Alas, I was ready to find my victims.
With some futile attempts at small talk, awkward hand gestures, rapid typing, and nervous laughter, I gathered some willing subjects. Let me paint a picture (pun intended).
Chris and Wayne: the Rendez-vous-ers.
When I saw them staring at Christ as the Savior of Human Kind I knew they were the types of people I wanted in this article. So, with some encouragement-which consisted of my pal nodding me toward them with the “go!” look on her face- I made my move.
It wasn’t too hard, I came to find. Chris was originally from Pittsburgh and Wayne was born in Texas but lived in Florida. They had come to Philly to see the art, which isn’t uncommon. Yet there was something about these two. They did not care one bit about the Super Bowl, only in the mad city because of their dedication to art. They had seen a few other art museums and wanted to compare. So instead of getting day drunk and shouting, pardon my French, “big dick Nick,” they buried themselves in classic Renaissance artwork.
Chris was especially excited about the details the artists put into the paintings, pointing out what she found particularly fascinating. The shadows and reflections of hands on glass and swans in water, all of her explanations were intriguing.
After a quick chat and farewell, I moved on.
Samira: Rainy Day Blues.
As I walked through the maze of rooms full of magnificent art, I found a lone wolf. She was young and looked to be just sitting, enjoying the aura of the fountain she was by. So naturally I interrupted.
City life was not new to her, as she lives in NYC. There was a leadership conference in Philadelphia for her alumni association, which led her through the bustling hoards of tipsy Eagles fans. The rainy day called for some time to relax. She just figured “why not?”
I agree, Samira. Why not?
She was also excited to see the hype surrounding game day and being in the city made her an Eagles fan. At least for the day. Go Birds.
More invasive searching led me to a charming blond.
Oliver: Lovestruck.
At first, I did not notice the Irish accent, but boy was I excited when I did. Living in New York did not take his Irish timbre away (thank god).
He came to Philadelphia to see his girlfriend, who also traveled from out of state. A lover’s tale, really.
The art was the major focus of the day, as the two had previously spent time exploring other museums in the city. Nothing like a bit of impressionism to spice things up, right?
While I was busy reminiscing about Ireland, I did happen to inquire about the football game, to which he shrugged and stated, “I don’t care so much.” Duly noted, Oliver.
Moving on.
Shacaria: The Real Hero.
Okay, so it might have been the easy way out, but I asked a security woman for an interview. I knew she wouldn’t be able to shrug me off and move along through the museum. Oh well.
She was born and raised in Philly, excited for the game. Well, for the most part. Being a Cowboys fan, she chose to support her home team and let them have it. If Dallas couldn’t make it, the Eagles were the next best thing. Fair enough.
Though no wild stories were gained from the art museum about rambunctious teens wreaking havoc or insane art enthusiasts trying to steal paintings, she did have one from a previous job.
Before she worked at the museum, she was part of Temple’s campus security. Her most memorable action was an encounter with a streaker. Shocking, I know. College kids taking their clothes off? Wild. Sparing the details of the incident, she moved on to say that museum life is much less…naked. In some aspects, at least.
(I really hope she got out of work in time to see the game. You deserve it, Shacaria.)
A quick picture later, I found myself desperately searching for my last victims. Then I saw them. They were in deep discussion about a sculpture.
Phil and Paul: Awe Inspired.
Two people could not be more casually passionate about art. They immediately dove into conversations about how they moved to a specific Philly neighborhood to be closer to the museum. That’s dedication.
After frequenting the exhibits for years, they were excited about a room they had never seen before. It was in the American art section. Forgive me for not remembering exactly which part it was. Here, they talked about colors, shapes, billowing statues, and overall beauty surrounding the halls of art history.
Further still, they told me about the renovations that the museum will undergo to open the space up, let more light in, and make it easier to navigate. These men knew their stuff.
Jovially spending more time with them learning about new American art, I realized that all of the encounters I had were extraordinarily mundane but so exciting. On one of the biggest days in history for Eagles fans I met some average people with lives beyond the hype. It was exciting, in a non “dilly, dilly” type of way.
So maybe the next time you go out, find a park bench or, better yet, a museum, and interact. You can paint portraits with conversation.
