Meow full

Of course this happened at a conference. Of course. You are provided several community-building activities, told to choose one, and it is going to be Meow Wolf, because it can’t not be Meow Wolf.

Meow Wolf is an art thing. That’s the only way I can reasonably describe it. A bunch of artists made something immersive, grammable, trippy as hell; it plays with the kids. There are three locations; all are in legal states; the first was in Santa Fe. Denver’s is the biggest and newest, located between two interstate offramps in plain view of a football stadium. I saw an ad for Meow Wolf in the airport. I don’t know what the name means.

Meow Wolf is not therapy, although you’re admonished to decondition yourself before you get off the first elevator. Let go of others’ baggage, you are told. Only bring your own. For what, exactly? Marveling. Wouldn’t it be more useful to use wonder as a way of letting go of baggage in the moment? No questions are answered.

Meow Wolf is full of quiet, lovely moments if you step back for a moment and allow it to be a little normal. So many teenagers make out in Meow Wolf. People look up, slackjawed, grinning. People laugh at nothing. It becomes cliché after a few minutes. You can post up at a railing, watch the entrance from above. Fun becomes predictable this way. It’s worth the $40 to step back and watch humanity react to something absolutely baffling for a while.