Michelangelo.

On Saturday, my wife roused me early. 

Her problem wasn't getting me out of bed, it was finding a bat large enough to wake me with. 

But in short order I was showered, shaved and ready to walk over to the Metropolitan Museum. The Met, like so much of New York, including Tad's Steaks is enjoying a Renaissance of gargantuan proportions. To steal a phrase from the great Yogi, 'it's getting so crowded, no one goes there anymore.'

My wife had discovered, however, that the Met had members' only hours during which time we could see the Michelangelo exhibit with smaller crowds than during their open-to-everyone hours.

So we arrived at the august museum at 8:45. In just minutes we were hustled to the second floor along with about 3,200 other early birds to beat the crowds.

As is typical of the Met, they had hundreds and hundreds of pieces and were employing the latest Disneyfied crowd-control methods to move people through the show. There was more pushing and shoving than reflection and contemplation.

However, I saw this. And stood in front of it for some time.

And I got to see this, as well, one of only two or three sculptures in the lot. (Though we sped through the Rodin exhibit on the way to Michelangelo.)

In all we were bathed in genius for about two hours. But by 11AM, Whiskey and the Connecticut seashore beckoned and we were off to the beach.

There's really no great way to see art of this sort in New York. There's no refuge from the crowds and the elbows sharing the same idea as you or your wife had.

Part of me thinks that the way to really enjoy a popular show like this is to read up about two or three pieces beforehand and see only them. But the logistics of museum-going are such that you're bound to try to see everything in one giant art buffet.

I'm not complaining though.

While most of the city slept, I was with my wife. And Michelangelo.