Reflecting on the day of the screening of the Oscar Nominated Short Films, I need to remind myself that I did actually see the short films, that I made it to the theater and sat perfectly still for about two hours, safe and exactly where I was meant to be.
With hours to spare between the end of our first class of the day and the 2:30 p.m. start time of the short films, a friend and classmate of mine, Izabella, and I took our sweet time to get a move on. We bonded over Press wraps and coffee, sharing personal stories and people-watching for more time than the five short films would elapse.
With about an hour to spare, and Izabella’s trusty new iPhone leading the way, we departed from our 23rd Street comfort zone and were off into the city we all pretend to know better than we actually do. The first half of the trip was a success; the whole ten minutes it took to walk to the 6 train and get off at Bleecker Street, that is.
But then, dun dun dun…
Our nemesis, the B Train. *Spoiler Alert: It won.
We waited impatiently for a train that we were not positive was the correct one to arrive, in a station filled with sights and smells that reminded me of my humble Staten Island roots. After about ten minutes, we joked that it would never come, that it was a sign that we were waiting for the wrong train; we should have followed that sign. Finally, our chariot arrived and we eagerly jumped aboard, looking as out of place as we felt, outsiders among the Village-ers.
Among muffled conductor-isms, Izabella managed to make out a string of words which she translated to me as, “Get up right now, we’re going to Brooklyn!” I didn’t wait for an explanation.
Now, I’m not shy to admit that I rarely know my way around, but I am a stubborn fool when it comes to asking for help, a quality that I share with Izabella. Needless to say, we were screwed when we emerged from the murky underground to a slew of signs and posters in Chinese.
I feel no loss of pride by jumping in a cab and calling it quits, and I was not about to wander around China Town, if that’s even where we were, for the remaining 15 minutes we had until the beginning of the films, so I dragged Izabella to the first cab I could find and we set off on the ten minute drive to our real destination, the IFC theater, which we were clearly incapable of finding on our own.
The promised land.
I’d never been so happy to fork over fourteen bucks for a movie ticket. I triumphantly climbed the steps to the stuffy little Theater 2 and settled into my seat, safe and sound. Nothing could make me budge, not even my nagging craving for the popcorn all of my classmates were raving about.
So, if you get caught somewhere between 23rd Street and the IFC Theater, close your eyes, click your heels together, and hail a damn cab.
Slightly depressing to think this was all walking distance from school. Could’ve saved cab fare and $2.50…and a whole bundle of nerves.
That trip sounds like a short film. I could see it win an Oscar.
great post! i can relate. i barely know my way around the city either that’s why i decided to drive instead of taking the subway. i even found a spot almost directly in front of the theater.