Last Saturday some British artist hosted a scavenger hunt through SFMOMA. I assembled a dream team of tough, resourceful and fast men–Aaron King, Ryan Red, Brent Hagen and myself. We were supposed to be training for the last two weeks, but how could we possibly lose?
While I should’ve been riding to the far reaches of SF to familiarize myself, I road to the Vietnamese sandwich shop to meet Ben Weiner and see his MASH Nikes.
Instead of daily calisthenics, I took naps on the sidewalk.
When I should’ve been sleeping or brushing up on my art history, I was at rollerdisco.
And Nick Nice was in the girls’ bathroom. You’ll have to ask him.
Meghan and Keith were laughing at the guy’s testicle that kept appearing in the exercise video that played over the roller rink.
Maybe rollerskating could be a valuable asset to this hunt… Nah.
Day of the hunt, we were up early and in line sizing up all the chumps. Looked like cake. Except for one team….
We got our hundred clues and ran back to Aaron’s office to begin decoding. We enlisted the services of crafty, intelligent friends and Mr. Google.
I got out on the bike and found various items and clues. Like this mobile we were supposed to recreate. Brent dispatched as I chased wild geese.
3:30 Meet the Meek. And shoot ’em.
Allie made daisy chains.
Aaron put a hole in a book.
After doing and collecting a thousand other things, we hustled to the museum to display our findings. Brent dragged this king size mattress through the lobby with one hand leaving a trail of destruction in the name of winning.
Our table o’ junk.
Tetrahedrons, snapshot of someone with a black eye, lipstick dick print, egg sunny side up, cast of a foot, scab, dreadlock, flattened spoon, ear plugs, etc. It’s all there.
We had to leave our awesome fox skull with them.
Aaron made dookie with clay.
A wise slang=wineglass, smashed four eyes, Kate Bush album=red shoe. It was bonkers figuring out and procuring these things. But we ended up with an outrageous number of points. In the bag…maybe.
Judges assessed the items of the other 51 teams and tallied scores.
We waited patiently in the lobby wondering what we’d do with our prize money.
A big song and dance ensued just before the artist named the winners of the $4000 grand prize. Could someone really beat our 3600 points?
Yes. With 3700 points, SF Messengers won $4000. The one team we worried about. Completely, utterly heartbroken.
We lost by 109 measley points. When we went back to Aaron’s office, there laying on the desk was a burlap sack and a toy gun, worth a combined total of 125 points. What can you do? It was fun. Really, it was. And if we had to lose, I’m glad it was to them.
I’m slowly scavenging my diginity and happiness from the gutters of regret and misery. We find the best things when we’re not looking for them anyway.