The Coat Check Line
We waited for the coat check
Since our winter garb is bulky
And schlepping it around could make
Us feel a little sulky.
The Met was far from crowded
Yet the line was barely crawling.
We inched along impatiently;
As members, it was galling.
At last we made it to the front;
No claim checks were presented.
Instead, you tapped your number
On a keypad; none dissented.
When we were set to leave,
After a lovely afternoon,
We lined up once again,
Our crawl repeating much too soon.
But as we zipped our jackets up,
I noticed that adjacent
To the line we left was one where
Not one person was impatient.
For it was meant for members,
Which describes our situation.
Had we known about it sooner,
We’d have saved some aggravation.
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