Stained Glass Mafia

A few weeks back I decided to take a beginner’s stained glass course at a local art studio.

Let’s just say the experience has been one to remember.

On our first day, me and a few other girls were crowded around one of the two big tables in the studio listening to our 70-year old instructor set down the ground rules.

Our first little lesson: Your hands are going to get cut at least once during the next 6 weeks.

Our second little lesson: You can bring “Red Juice” to the studio during your class. Oh, red juice is what we call wine here, he says with a little wink.

Interesting concept. Cutting class and drinking alcohol. Not sure if I’m board with that one yet.

As the instructor was going over the basics with us, this huge fat woman at the next table over was talking so loud it was like she was shouting. Then she’d throw in a couple loud guffaws for good measure every once in awhile. Me and another girl were like WTF? We can’t even hear our instructor over this loudmouth.

Well, I did some checking around and it turns out this woman comes to every class they have. She pays and comes even if she’s taken the class before. Apparently, it’s her big night out for the week or something.

Since she pays, the owners not only put up with her but give her special treatment and pretty much let her do whatever she wants.

But wait.

It gets better because the word around the kiln is that you don’t cross this woman or else you may come in next time and your glass will be all smashed up!

Apparently this happened awhile back to some poor girl who questioned this stained glass Nazi.

What did I walk into here? Who knew an art studio was going to be so political?

I say political because there are 2 types of glass class that happen there: stained glass and glass fusion (which is where all the “cool regulars” including the stained glass Nazi were).

Us newbies were the stained glass lepers at the other table.

And when I say lepers, I’m not joking. Not one of those women deigned to look over at us or acknowledge us in any way.

In fact, once I was waiting in line for the glass grinding machine and one of them cut in front of me. I said excuse me and she just looked at me and was like, “my stuff was already in here”.

What was I supposed to do? You can’t punk someone out or throw down at an art studio. That would be too sad.

Feeling like a tattletale, I mentioned it to our instructor but he was pretty much like that’s the way it goes.

Maybe being the stained glass instructor, he’s low man on the totem pole too.

I guess that’s why he was hoping each week that one of us brought the red juice to share.