Fireworks lit the night, an unsettling visual to the staccato of gunshots. The main street was inaccessible. We jumped the curb, took an empty piece of sidewalk down the block, and found a relatively quiet side road. “For what it’s worth, I’m Team Hansel,” my driver said. He kept both hands on the wheel and didn’t take his eyes off the road for more than a second’s glance. I appreciated that, especially amid the chaos. “I’ve got three children myself. Art should be able to be just as miserable as the rest of us.”
