Star Trek

This post was going to be a simple mini movie review of STAR TREK, but what happened before and after is a better story. I don't want to spoil the movie for anyone, so I'll just say this:

It's awesome. Go see it right now. You can thank me later.

So Dumpling and I showed up at the Chelsea theater last night and it was sold out. So we decided to walk on up to 31st street and catch a cab across town to 2nd Ave where the Kips Bay theater is (near Little India, which I didn't think about until later). That theater is an anomaly: it's so huge it looks like it should be in the suburbs, surrounded by three acres of parking lot. It's kind of a pain to get to, but it's never crowded.

We got tickets for the next show, then went in search of a bodega in which to buy ice cream treats. Instead, we found a great bar right across the street and went in and had a pint to pass the time until the movie. It was decorated like your neighbor's basement in the country: wood paneling, vintage alcohol ads, Christmas lights, two TVs, friendly staff and hardly anyone in there.

So I was just chillin', sippin' my Guiness, watching the Yankees play the Blue Jays, and these two guys came out of a back room and order more drinks. There was some confusion over one guy's order--he wanted a double shot of Patron in a rocks glass and a glass of water on the side, but the bartender had started to prepare Patron and water on the rocks.

The thirsty gentleman soon corrected him, and then said,

"Drinking Patron with water is like fucking a woman with her underwear on!"

What?! I am still trying to figure out what that means. Have you ever heard anything like that?

Then this plump, hesitant-looking Indian man with glasses and a shirt and tie comes in. He approaches the bar almost nervously, and asks:

"Can I order a drink here, and just sit anywhere?"

The bartender was understandably confused by his question, since there were four of us sitting at the bar, and about a hundred open tables and booths throughout the joint. He assured the Indian man that he could go anywhere he wanted with his drink, except outside. The guy indicated a chair on one side of the bar and asked if anyone was sitting there. No, nobody was sitting there, he was welcome to sit there. It was bizarre but very dear. He ordered a Guiness too.

We finished our pints, got awesome seats in the theater (in front of the railings) and this is the last thing I'll say about Star Trek: we both had to pee about halfway through (cuz of the beer, you know how that is) but held it in all the way to the end of the credits because the movie was THAT GOOD.

So afterwards we're waiting on the corner to cross Second Ave. and all these taxis are crowding around in front of the theater, cutting each other off and driving like dickheads as usual. Directly in front of us, this Indian cab driver sticks his head and shoulders out of the window and shouted at the driver behind him:

"Fuck you, you motherfucker!"

Not that unusual of an event, but what made it hilarious is that he pronounced each word so clearly and carefully in a full-on Indian accent. He could totally be an extra in a Seinfeld episode or something.

Walked on over to Lexington and we saw a fantastic restaurant sign: INDO MUNCH. Who on earth would come up with that name for a restaurant?! I love it!

I got really excited and wanted to take a picture to share with you all, but the owners had just locked up and were pulling down the gate. Dumpling, friendly soul that he is, introduced himself and said we loved the name of their restaurant. They were so sweet and nice--an Indian couple in their thirties--and so I didn't want to take a picture of the lit-up sign right in front of them (they lingered for a while) so I took a menu and snapped a picture of that instead:

And there you have it! A trifecta of Interesting Indian Incidents and an awesome flick. It was a great night.