Getting Out

About two months ago, SuzyQ informed me that my favorite movie, The Apartment, was playing at the Elevated Acre as part of New York City's River to River Festival. She also informed me that there was no way we weren't going. I consistently tried to get out of it, because A) I don't generally like doing things that involve me not being in my apartment, and B) These outdoor movie screenings tend to get very crowded, and I do not like crowds.

What I was continually dreading, and completely convinced I'd find a way out of, turned out to be one of the best nights I've had in a long time. For one, the Elevated Acre is simply awesome. It's on the roof of a building that's about 12 stories high, and the ground is lined with astroturf. People bring blankets and picnics (we got sandwiches from a deli across the street). Stroll to the back of the acre, and there's a stunning view of the East River and the Brooklyn Bridge. If I were Carmi, I'd have some really nice photos to show you. Sadly, I am not Carmi, although our names sound alike.

The movie screen was of the giant inflatable variety, and the audience was really receptive to the film. . . once it started. First, we were "treated" to a gazillion-minute long speech by "artist" Lili White, who rambled on and on incoherently about 9/11 and the early Lithuanian community in Manhattan, and a million other things. Then she showed 5 agonizing minutes of her film, NY (See)--get it?--an avant-garde piece that made very little sense to me or anyone around me. Like, there's a guy working on a construction site, and suddenly a silhouette of a man driving a horse and buggy crawls across the screen. Seriously, it was more interesting watching the floors of lights being turned on and off by the maintenance crew in the adjacent skyscraper.

Once the movie finally began, a fight erupted between a latecomer who'd brought her dog AND cat to the screening (who does that?) and a woman who insisted she was allergic to dogs and wanted the woman to move. I mean, okay, it's weird to bring a CAT to an outdoor movie, not so weird to bring a dog--there were others there. I'm glad I wasn't part of that argument, but I have to admit it was entertaining. I think both women overreacted.

I wound up splitting my time between watching the film and watching the cat lady hand-feed her feline pieces of meat from her chef's salad. Later, I found out from another friend who was there that there was at least one other cat in the audience. I didn't realize that members of the furball community were as enthralled with Shirley MacLaine and Billy Wilder as me. And since we were outside, and kind of high up, we had a great view of the planes flying overhead. I kind of wished one of them would drop a stash of Milk Duds into the audience, but no such luck.

All in all, and I hate saying this, because it's so clichéd and condescending to other places in the world, it was a truly New York experience. My OCD acted up a bit, but I was still able to enjoy my evening, watching my favorite movie with someone who's almost a favorite person, sitting on awesome crunchy astroturf and munching on free popcorn in the shadow of the Brooklyn Bridge. As Suzy Q. and Cindy Adams would say, "Only in New York, kids. Only in New York."