Art Girls Are Easy

Beats of Basquiat: The Final Chapter

While I stand there slack-jawed, Law School Buddy comes back.

"I made out with another girl," he says and flashes his phone, "Jessica MFA 8.0." We're both kind of confused. Somehow the predator has become the prey.

"What is it with museum chicks?" LSB asks. Something weird is going on. Is the extra lighting making girls more confident? Is the word spreading about my cabeza analysis?

The museum was teeming with beautiful people.
Bill Olive
The museum was teeming with beautiful people.
Maybe this move will get him a phone number?
Steven Thomson
Maybe this move will get him a phone number?

We head upstairs to escape the heat and scope the party. Flash's set is fairly mediocre from a turntable point of view, but he's obviously keeping a great party going.

"I'm looking for Sara," he says.

"You can't remember what she looks like," I remind him.

"I remember her shoulder."

While he scours the crowd of thousands for the distinctive shoulder, I get a tap on my own. A younger girl in a pastel sweater wants to take a picture with me. Sure, why not? They get the picture and leave. Law School Buddy looks at me confused. I shake my head. "No idea. That's probably going on her MySpace."

We're starting to get freaked out since in the course of an hour we've been approached by more women than on any other night ever. We decide to bounce to one of the myriad official and unofficial after-parties. Just as we turn to head out, there's a tap on LSB's shoulder.

"Hey guys, my friends wanted me to come over..."

If you insist. Thank you, Grandmaster Flash. Thank you, MFAH. And thank you, Starbucks. Let's do this again. It was great meeting you. I'll call you. "Beats of Basquiat MFA 9.5."

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