Let me set the stage:
Day: Tuesday
Time: 5:37 p.m.
Location: At my desk
Task: Doing nothing
Plans for the evening: None
Time: 5:37 p.m.
Location: At my desk
Task: Doing nothing
Plans for the evening: None
I was ready to leave after a light day at work, but what to do what to do. I had Gmail open and Girl sent me a message, asking me what was I up to. I said, about to leave. She was also about to leave too. Did I want to meet up with her. Yes. To do what? She didn't know. Neither did I.
I went to Time Out NY and began looking for all events in New York for Tuesday. On the front page, I scrolled down a little, and found my plans for the night. I called Girl and said, guess what is going on at the Barnes & Noble at Lincoln Center, blocks from your apartment? She didn't know. And why would she? Surely, I had no idea and if not for the internet and this magazine dedicated to informing New Yorkers about every musical, comedic, artistic, athletic, dramatic, alcoholic event going on in this great city, then I would've remained in the dark too. This is why New York is great. Not only is there stuff going on, but there are people whose sole function is to tell people about this stuff because if left to your own devices the only suggestions you would come up with are let's see a movie, let's get dinner, or let's do nothing because those are our only options. Last night, I found something to do.
I went to Time Out NY and began looking for all events in New York for Tuesday. On the front page, I scrolled down a little, and found my plans for the night. I called Girl and said, guess what is going on at the Barnes & Noble at Lincoln Center, blocks from your apartment? She didn't know. And why would she? Surely, I had no idea and if not for the internet and this magazine dedicated to informing New Yorkers about every musical, comedic, artistic, athletic, dramatic, alcoholic event going on in this great city, then I would've remained in the dark too. This is why New York is great. Not only is there stuff going on, but there are people whose sole function is to tell people about this stuff because if left to your own devices the only suggestions you would come up with are let's see a movie, let's get dinner, or let's do nothing because those are our only options. Last night, I found something to do.
Day: Tuesday
Time: 7:30 p.m.
Location: Barnes & Noble, 1972 Broadway (At 66th St.)
Event: Alec Baldwin Book Reading
Book: A Promise to Ourselves: A Journey Through Fatherhood and Divorce
Cost: Free
Time: 7:30 p.m.
Location: Barnes & Noble, 1972 Broadway (At 66th St.)
Event: Alec Baldwin Book Reading
Book: A Promise to Ourselves: A Journey Through Fatherhood and Divorce
Cost: Free
I like free and I like Alec Baldwin. I've been a Baldwin fan ever since Beetlejuice and The Hunt for Red October. His Hall of Fame quote-fests from Malice and Glengarry Glen Ross put him over the top. 
Then he pulled an Eddie Murphy with The Getaway (when will actors learn not to work with their spouses? See, Swept Away with Madonna, directed by Guy Ritchie), The Shadow (which I actually enjoy in parts), The Juror, and Heaven's Prisoners. He came back with the wilderness adventure film The Edge with Anthony Hopkins, written by David Mamet (who also wrote Glengarry, so you can expect good dialogue). Then he jumped back on the Mamet bandwagon once more with State and Main, which I own on DVD and consider one of the more underrated ensemble comedies of the past decade. Now, he's only doing solid movies, like The Departed, and being funny on 30 Rock.
New Yorkers apparently love him. When we got to the Barnes and Noble at 6:35, almost an hour before showtime, we were directed to stand in line for the reading. Those who purchased his book were given preferential seating. We were not prepared or interested in purchasing his book, so we went to the end of the line, which wrapped around the stack of books like a unspooled ball of yarn. Every time I expected the line to come to its end, another turn existed, past which more people lined up. When I asked the in-house security guard, Ronald, whether he thought I would get in to the reading, he told me it was the longest line he'd ever seen for a reading and I should probably just leave, but if I wanted to stay, it was up to me.
Baldwin's appeal spread across demographics. There were young women, old women, black women, black men, white people, fat guys wearing Yankee sweatshirts, couples, old, liberal, hippie chicks, latinos, homeless people, etc.
The length of the line frustrated me. This is what I hate about trying to do anything unique in New York. Everyone else (out of 8 million people) is trying to do something fun and unique too. And you can guarantee that enough of the 8 million people will find out about those unique and cool opportunities much farther in advance than 1 hour and 53 minutes and they will go to the location and sit down and wait in line much earlier than I will and they will get in and have a fun Tuesday night, listening to Alec Baldwin read excerpts about why Kim Basinger is crazy and why he left a berating voice mail on his daughter's cell phone. And maybe they'll get to ask him thought provoking questions like, At any point today, were you worried that no one would show up?
What pains me the most is not that I missed out on Alec Baldwin, but that this would have happened even if it was Billy Baldwin. New Yorkers love anything that's free and hints at the slightest bit of culture. For instance, I'm going to try to go to Jonathan Ames' reading tonight in Brooklyn, and I expect the same disastrous result, i.e., leaving after standing on line for five minutes and realizing that I'm not going to get in and then ending up getting pizza for dinner with Girl, although tonight I'm bringing my dad and we'll probably get something other than pizza.
Or maybe, New Yorkers just love Alec Baldwin.
Jared
Then he pulled an Eddie Murphy with The Getaway (when will actors learn not to work with their spouses? See, Swept Away with Madonna, directed by Guy Ritchie), The Shadow (which I actually enjoy in parts), The Juror, and Heaven's Prisoners. He came back with the wilderness adventure film The Edge with Anthony Hopkins, written by David Mamet (who also wrote Glengarry, so you can expect good dialogue). Then he jumped back on the Mamet bandwagon once more with State and Main, which I own on DVD and consider one of the more underrated ensemble comedies of the past decade. Now, he's only doing solid movies, like The Departed, and being funny on 30 Rock.New Yorkers apparently love him. When we got to the Barnes and Noble at 6:35, almost an hour before showtime, we were directed to stand in line for the reading. Those who purchased his book were given preferential seating. We were not prepared or interested in purchasing his book, so we went to the end of the line, which wrapped around the stack of books like a unspooled ball of yarn. Every time I expected the line to come to its end, another turn existed, past which more people lined up. When I asked the in-house security guard, Ronald, whether he thought I would get in to the reading, he told me it was the longest line he'd ever seen for a reading and I should probably just leave, but if I wanted to stay, it was up to me.
Baldwin's appeal spread across demographics. There were young women, old women, black women, black men, white people, fat guys wearing Yankee sweatshirts, couples, old, liberal, hippie chicks, latinos, homeless people, etc.
The length of the line frustrated me. This is what I hate about trying to do anything unique in New York. Everyone else (out of 8 million people) is trying to do something fun and unique too. And you can guarantee that enough of the 8 million people will find out about those unique and cool opportunities much farther in advance than 1 hour and 53 minutes and they will go to the location and sit down and wait in line much earlier than I will and they will get in and have a fun Tuesday night, listening to Alec Baldwin read excerpts about why Kim Basinger is crazy and why he left a berating voice mail on his daughter's cell phone. And maybe they'll get to ask him thought provoking questions like, At any point today, were you worried that no one would show up?
What pains me the most is not that I missed out on Alec Baldwin, but that this would have happened even if it was Billy Baldwin. New Yorkers love anything that's free and hints at the slightest bit of culture. For instance, I'm going to try to go to Jonathan Ames' reading tonight in Brooklyn, and I expect the same disastrous result, i.e., leaving after standing on line for five minutes and realizing that I'm not going to get in and then ending up getting pizza for dinner with Girl, although tonight I'm bringing my dad and we'll probably get something other than pizza.Or maybe, New Yorkers just love Alec Baldwin.
Jared
1 comment:
Your theory is true. Some foolish New Yorker (me) even read your posting on Alec Baldwin all the way through (and had a few good laughs). New Yorkers are everywhere all at once. We're like ants.
-RC
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