This seems to be the case a lot of the times in New York City--going out on a weeknight is better than going out on Friday or Saturday. Some possible reasons--more interesting things going on, less B&Ters infesting the bars, or the fact that you know you have to get up in the morning so you better make this night worth it. Whatever the case this particular week proved this theory correct. Both my Tuesday and Thursday night were pretty interesting.
Tuesday: The Tribeca Film Fest. It is held annually in New York and is similar to Sundance. New independent movies are shown in venues across Tribeca and JM had scored some extra tickets through her work. She had invited me and a few other friends, including Flower, who I hadn't seen much of since NYE. We were all meeting at Macau Trading Co, an Asian/Portuguese fusion restaurant, for dinner and drinks before the showing. Of course JM and I made friends with the bartender, who gave us a free shot of aged rum in our way out. Not too shabby. We all walked over to the theatre and stood in line. Apparently two older women did not get how a line worked and kept trying to move in front of us. Now I am not a real stickler about many things, but I am with lines. You get there, you wait your turn, it's very simple. So needless to say these biddies were pissing me off and every time they tried to make a move for it I would block their way, ensuring that they were never able to get in front of us.
We finally made it to the entrance, walked down the red carpert (no celebs present, not as fancy as it sounds) and took our seats in the theatre. None of us really knew anything about the movie we were going to see, except that it was a documentary about a famous rock star who had killed himself on stage. See trailer here. Needless to say, we were expecting a bit of a downer. We were wrong. SPOILER ALERT--I'm giving the ending away. The story was absolutely amazing. An American singer named Rodriguez who never made it big here, but became extremely famous in South Africa, but never knew it, due to the political conditions there at the time and corrupt record companies. In South Africa they thought that he had killed himself on stage. The truth was, he had retired from music and worked as a laborer in Detroit for years. No one in South Africa knew this until some journalists there uncovered the truth. They contacted him and brought him to South Africa, where he and his three daughters were treated like royalty. He performed a few sold out concerts and the South Africans basically flipped their shit. It was awesome to watch and by the end we were all enthralled. And it got even better. After the screening there was a q&a with the director, who actually brought the real Rodriguez onstage to perform. We were all close to tears at that point--we started out not even knowing who this guy was, and by the end we were like the South African fans. We exited the theatre afterwards starstruck, and even though I didn't get home until 1am on a weeknight, it was totally worth it.
Thursday: I was very wary about going out this night, since I had already had a late night a couple nights earlier. But it was Russian Rocher's Polish friend's bday and she had specifically invited me at Russian Rocher's bday a few weeks prior. She was doing a booze cruise, which did not start until 10pm. I was not happy about this, but after much prodding from Russian Rocher and Yahtzee, who was interested in the friend, I decided that I would go, but would not partake in the open bar. Surprisingly, I actually stuck to this decision and still had a good time. Russian Rocher, Yahtzee, Deux and Khia were part of the cast of characters. The boat was a bit tacky, and had a buffet with some gross, steaming hot dogs. But it also had a dance floor and an open section on top, where you could get a decent view of the landmark buildings and bridges. And lucky for me, the Polish friend had invited some dudes she had met the night before, one of which was very attractive. We ended up talking for most of the night, while Khia and Deux danced around like idiots. He seemed pretty cool, though a bit narcissistic. Not surprising, considering his good looks. He was apparently a musician with no other job. I smelled a trust fund (turns out, I was right...more info to come). We took pictures of us in the sailor hat I had brought for the nautical occasion. I could see Deux eyeing me from the dancefloor and when the guy left for the bathroom, Deux took the opportunity to saunter up to me and ask where "Mr Skinny Jeans" was. I couldn't believe the nerve, considering almost every time I had seen him since our unfortunate date, he had been with some girl. I waved him away just in time for the guy's return. We talked more and at the end of the night exchanged numbers and made tentative plans to hang out that weekend.
I shared a cab with some of the crew, including Deux, who was extremely wasted, while everyone had managed to remain relatively sober. Khia warned him that he couldn't go home and break shit and he promised that he wouldn't "break any....drugs", among other fairly incoherent statements.We all laughed at him and I hopped out at the subway to go back to the Shwick. When I rolled in, once again after 1am, I was pleased to have a text from the hot guy. Being exhausted at work the next day was totally worth it.
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