Some things deserve to be laughed at — laughter with a frisson of incredulity.  Incredulity without the guffaws also works well.  And Florian closing in protest is hilarious.

Florian is the jewel in the crown of the Piazza San Marco.  Opened on December 29, 1720, it is certainly the oldest cafe extant in Venice, and in all of Italy; some sources claim it’s the oldest in the world, though Florian modestly denies it.  It’s also extremely beautiful.  History and elegance make such a lovely couple.  Sipping your prosecco or Bellini or even a tiny cup containing three drops of espresso, a nibble of salmon, a delectable pastry, all brought to you on a silver salver, you can feel wonderfully, uniquely glamorous.  Sitting in Venice!  At Florian!  Am I dreaming?  Is this really me?

Then the bill arrives, and you have to start planning that second mortgage on your house.  Coffee at the bar: 3 euros ($3.17).  Seated: 6.50 ($6.85). A little plate of six (6) cookies? 13 euros ($13.71).  Is the atmosphere adorned by the enchanting music rippling from the instruments of the quartet on their platform outside?  Your conto will request your payment of 6 euros per person, even if you didn’t actually order it.  Yes, for a concert it’s extremely economical.

I could go on, but my point is not how expensive it is; Florian can charge any price it wants and nobody is forcing you to go there.

My point is that they closed for a day to protest the “invasion” of the gargantuan stage set up for massive ceremonies in the Piazza San Marco. (More on the ceremonies later.)  Florian strongly objects to all this construction encroaching on their territory, primarily because they were not consulted weeks in advance.  The city government disputes the accusation of no consultation.

I could understand somebody protesting a situation that would dangerously and cruelly limit, if not eliminate, their income for a few days (April 29 – May 9, to be precise).  But I don’t believe this is the case.

They complain that there is too much going on in the Piazza, and huge events such as Wednesday’s graduation ceremony for 800 students of the University of Venice, and the even huger rituals planned for today in honor of the Morosini naval school (details follow), are seriously invading their physical space and even their aura.

The occasion is the 60th anniversary of the school’s re-founding in 1961 (originally established in 1937, but interruptions such as war ensued).  And while we’re all together, why not also conduct the requisite swearing-in ceremony by which the first-year class is rendered officially military.  This year the second-year group will join in, as there was no oath-taking last year.  There will be marching and saluting executed by the 150 cadets, undoubtedly abetted by detachments from other military branches.  Did I mention that the president of the republic will also be there?  Not to mention many past cadets, going back decades.

To return to the bur under Florian’s saddle, yes, there is an enormous reviewing stand, and yes, there will be big bleachers flanking it.  It’s regrettable that these will degrade the scenery of the Piazza, to the detriment of the Florian fascination.  But it occurs to me that even though this legendary cafe’, like all businesses that place tables outdoors, pays a tax for the public space they occupy, they don’t actually own that space.  Which is to say that the Piazza San Marco doesn’t belong to them.  In fact, you could make a good argument that Florian’s appeal does not lie principally in the Piazza, but in its own glorious rooms.  If you take the Orient Express, are you really going to spend a lot of time looking out the window at the scenery?

In any case, the Piazza San Marco has been the site of mass confusionary events for centuries.  The interminable procession on the feast of Corpus Domini, the week-long market for the feast of the Ascension — stalls everywhere selling everything! — bear-baiting to entertain the Crown Prince of Russia in a Piazza surrounded by yes, bleachers filled with thousands of spectators, and so on.  If anything big is going to happen in Venice, it’s almost certainly going to happen in the Piazza San Marco.  Did nobody think to tell Florian?

Well, not according to them.  They say they got barely 24-hours notice before the scaffolding began to go up, at which I wonder what difference it would have made to have had even 240-hours notice.  The scaffolding is going up, and it will be coming down.  See: “Ownership of Piazza,” above.

So here is what strikes me as hilarious about all this: What possible difference does it make to anyone except Florian if it closes for a day?  I understand the desire to protest, but saying you’re going to close for a day to show how mad you are is kind of like when I was three years old and threatened to hold my breath forever if I didn’t get what I wanted.  My mother basically said “Go right ahead,” and I did, and when I regained consciousness on the kitchen floor she was still standing over there, washing dishes or cutting vegetables or whatever she was doing.  So much for my protest.

So a day without Florian, even though you can make it sound like something terrible, doesn’t even register on the Apocalypt-o-Meter.  I think most of us can say we have other things to worry about.