It's Late

It's late, I'm tired, but I'm committed to getting YOU the details of my adventures.  Tonight, I worked a job that I found on craigslist. Fortunately, this tale has a happy ending that doesn't involve the craigslist killer or any scams.  I was hired by an indie film company as a "host" for a movie premier downtown tonight.  My mom and grandmas were worried sick that I was going to die in at least one of enumerable horrifying ways, but somehow, they came to accept the fact that I was going to earn my 30 dollars working from 10:30 pm to 1:30 AM...

My job as host was to welcome movie goers to the film and to say goodbye to them as they left, and to look good.  Simple enough.  Unfortunately, there were only about 20 guests and roughly half of them showed up only for the short film that was shown before the feature film that I was hosting.  Oh well, I got paid regardless.  Now, it was never really clarified whether I was allowed to watch the movie.  The actors/only people who showed up to watch it all paid for tickets, something I wasn't about to do.  I was quite content to hang out with the staff of the theater (2 hipster guys in their late twenties, one of whom was playing the ukulele).  But, I bounced back and forth between watching the movie, and talking to hipster 1 and 2.  (Hipster 1, as it turns out, is in love with a psychopath, literally, a psychopath.  He's obsessed.  He even writes ukulele songs for her.  If that's not commitment, I don't know what is?)  Eventually hipster 1 decided he deserved a beer and a joint while working, so I headed back into the movie, permanently.

By this point, we are waaay past my bedtime.  The film has shoddy videography and some pretty bad acting, but the theme was solid.  It's about a gangster kid who wanted out of the drug business who gets killed and then his body gets taken by the US army and turned into the bionic man.  There's more, but I fell asleep so I have no idea what happens.  But, lets go back to the point where this kid gets shot.  It's a drug deal gone bad and the kid gets shot, point blank, IN THE EYE...but keeps going.  I disagree, writers...one does not simply walk after getting shot in the eye.  You die at that point.  But, just in case there is some freak way he didn't die, he gets shot another 4 times AND KEEPS GOING.  It isn't until the bad guys walk past him one by one each firing another 2 or 3 shots into him that he dies.  Later, when his body is recruited, the doctors say "his brain is completely intact, as are his vital organs.  Apart from a few crushed bones his body is in good shape."  Excuse me?  What bullets crush bones and spare organs?  And in what universe does getting shot in the eye not lead to some form of brain damage?  Also, they talked about downloading the kid's life experiences from his brain onto a "magnetic disc" aka a CD  (which, by the way, is not magnetic.  CD's rely upon light, whereas cassettes used magnetism...whatever).  But, the thing that got me the most, was the scientists kept saying "neuronic"  when they meant "neuronal"  I know...it's a silly thing to be hung up on, but if spell check tells you you're wrong, you might want to check into it.  This was especially bothersome because the director said that they tried to be as scientifically accurate as possible.  Anyways, the movie ends, I wake up just in time to say goodbye to everyone and all in all had a good experience.

So, I'm walking to the subway station and cross a pizza joint, selling slices of "Little Italy Pizza" for 2.75.  It reminded me of Italy and how hungry I was at that point so I stopped in grabbed a slice and headed to the train.  The pizza wasn't up to Italian standards but it was pretty good.  But, around the fifth bite in, a rogue string of melted cheese flips down from the pizza and latches onto my chin, scalding me.  I COULDN'T GET IT OFF.  I now have a pretty sweet burn and a ridiculous story for how it got there. 

A few random fun stories from things you see on the NYC subway late on a Saturday night:

Hookers.
Homeless people.
Drunk couples making out.
Drunk couples fighting.
Drunk single people hitting on semi-conscious or completely oblivious people.
Tweens singing "Call Me Maybe" and pleading strangers to sing along with them.  (I obliged.  I'm a sucker for singing with strangers.)

Some woman got angry at this guy who kept pacing up and down the subway car.  He was clearly not good at interactions with people.  The Call Me Maybe girls freaked him out.  The woman yells at him, in front of everyone, "Just sit down or go to sleep or something.  Stop pacing this car.  Seriously.  Stop being weird."  The poor guy just kind of awkwardly smiled and literally ran away to the other side of the car, where he kept his pacing minimal and eventually sat down for a short period of time.

I love NYC.  Cheers to the daily adventure and to a good night's rest.