There I stood in the Dalí museum looking at "Basket of Bread," an oil painting that, yes, depicts a basket of bread. Just below the painting sits a glass display case holding a gold-coated sculpture of the same heal of bread that's in the painting. And in my pocket were four slices of a baguette that I had stolen from lunch in anticipation of the fact that I might be hungry again soon.
It seemed to make perfect sense. I'd never executed a reverse art heist in my life. However, earlier in the week, I had pulled a reverse dine-and-dash, where I paid for a mozzarella-and-caprese salad that never made its way to our table. I like to believe that the phantom caprese subliminally inspired me.
I gave it a bit more thought, consulted my friends/accomplices, then suspiciously checked my surroundings before placing my pocket bread atop the glass case.
"Got 'em!" I softly said out loud before I strolled away feeling as smooth as Danny Ocean, but really snickering to myself like a fucking idiot.
Then I had Sarah become the Thierry Guetta to my Space Invader and document my work.
The coup de grâce of my stunt occurred when a docent proceeded to lecture about the "Basket of Bread" with my lunchtime addition in place.
The only question I now have to ask myself is whether or not I should update my résumé to include: "Collaborated with Salvador Dalí."
