Making my way from the airport to Ellen's apartment, the only transit error was taking the AirTrain in the wrong direction and not even considering a different subway line into the city. Given the vast potential for horror on such an overnight travel agenda, this was nothing to write home about. After all, the flight didn't include any of the twists and turns that one might expect from this summer's Red Eye. Being chased by a psychotic with an improvised defensive tracheotomy really brings a trip down, no?
Anyway. Upon arriving at Ellen's front door and checked my sidekick for new e-mails. There I found that CMJ had decided to grant me press credentials for the music marathon. Amazing, what asking will do.
Ellen let me inside, showed me the tricks of the apartment and we listened to some of the thrilling Roberts confirmation hearings on NPR while paging through recent issues of Time Out New York until it was time for her to go to school.
I took a quick shower and headed off to Lincoln Center to pick up my shiny silver badge, bag of promotional materials, and programs in time to race down to the Director's Guild theater to catch a screening of Thumbsucker. It was just about exactly as good as I'd hoped it would be, and the post-screening Q&A was entertaining even though the Q-er was kind of horrible. (For instance, Mills had mentioned his mother's death early in the conversation. Later, when his phone rang, she asked him if it was his mother calling.)
By the time the movie was over, Ellen had finished with her school things; so we met up and went back to Brooklyn. I think that I probably took a nap / fell asleep on the couch for a while. And then it was time to go to Park Slope to drink liberally to protect someone (Juno?) from being overwhelmed by leftists.
It's sort of funny that there are liberal drinking organizations in New York, given its status as the big island of the urban archipelago, but the bar (despite complaints from the random web designer/photographer's assistant) was pretty good and I got to hear Brooklynites talking about their opinions about the Nets being moved to the Atlantic shipyard. Also, a candidate for congress showed up to garner support. It didn't look like he was actually drinking liberally, unless bottled water counts.
It was something of a relief when Ellen broke up the conversation that I was having with the RWDPA about city-based weblogs so that we could meet Chris in the meat packing district. We went to a bar called APT, which has the charming theme of being decorated like someone's apartment. Clever, no? Someone's apartment that is really big, with too much furniture, an unclear host policy, a glass map that doesn't inlcude the Americas on the wall, and a loud party forming in the basement.
Chris and Jason arrived from a magazine launch party with plastic purses, and we caught up a little bit. I also came up with a theory about why it's better to live in New York than D.C., that involved the sort of things that people who pretend to be (or are) important can get into with their importance.
On the way out, there was a bit of a downpour and I was happy that Ellen advised me to take along an umbrella. We walked far enough to get a slice of pizza for Chris and then taxied our way back to Brooklyn.