Priceless

I've now been to the Art Institute of Chicago three times. I did enough research before attending the first time to understand that its $12 adult admission is a "suggested" price. Which means they're just asking for a donation in a sort of tricky, demanding way. So the first time with Mrs. Jay, I just paid the suggested student price ($7), figuring that since I share a bed with a student, I'm practically one myself. (Not to mention the fact that I frequent the public library, which has to qualify me for some level of student status, right? Even if I don't check out things like "Wuthering Heights.") The second time I went, I got a little more gutsy -- I mean, we're not made of money these days and art should be free to the working class and I have job so why should I have to pay $12 to walk around the museum for an hour when I don't even fully appreciate artwork? I mean, sometimes I confuse impressionism and post-impressionism. And Manet and Monet. (OK, not really but it's fun to say.) So I tried to pay $3 for three people. (Now remember, the museum is free on Tuesdays so that's $3 more than they could be getting, assuming we went on a Tuesday even though it was a Saturday.) But when I tried to plop those 3 Washingtons down, the cashier/curator gave me a death stare and said, "For three people?" with subtle disgust. So I broke down and whipped out $12, which meant we each paid $4. It was an improvement, but a definite moral defeat. So yesterday I convinced myself I would pay $3 for two people. Alas, I got nervous at the last minute and forked over $8 instead, which got a seriously disappointed cluck from the cashier. So once again I paid $4 a piece. Why am I so intent on paying the least amount possible to be in the presence of some of the most famous and exquisite works of art? I don't know. But it's become a moral issue to me, even if I'm taking the wrong side in this battle. After all, art is about thinking outside the box, and if the box says suggested admission, I say, "What admission?"