A Shot of Incilin

After reading Roger Ebert’s “Great Movie” review of After Hours, I felt compelled to watch it. If only because it was directed by Martin Scorsese and Ebert promised the use of dream logic in a film that has been described as “Kafkaesque.” In his original 1985 review of the film, Ebert wrote; “Audiences from other parts of the country are likely to think some of Scorsese’s scenes are fantasy, while New Yorkers may see them as merely exaggerations of reality.”

After having seen the film, I feel confident enough to say that if you’ve lived in New York long enough you’ve likely had your own After Hours moment. I say because I’ve had my own After Hours moment.

An After Hours moment is not like a long night, or a wild and crazy night, or a plain old adventure. And it doesn’t apply to a series of coincidences that somehow all relate to you, that’s just cosmic. An After Hours moment[1] can only be attained when your in a desperate situation, and someone magically appears, and they seem destined to help you, but they only aggravate you even further.

My personal AHM came last July 4th when I went out (against my better judgment) to Brooklyn.[2] Granted, Brooklyn is quite a trudge but we knew this guy who had an apartment worth about two million that had a beautiful view overlooking the river and the city.[3] Plus, I was promised there would be some of that {ahem} to burn.

Long story short; about an hour after we got there, me and my cousin ran out of there like dip at a Super Bowl party. We were running out of the elevators and into the streets knowing that the next elevator packs a group of guys who are probably going to kill us. Why? Well, I can’t divulge into details but tjpse dudes were going to pummel our faces in for something my cousin may or may not have done. So while we were out running for our lives on the streets, my only goal was to get a cab and have them take us into Manhattan. I didn’t feel safe taking the nearby JMZ line since those dudes might have been around there.

Now here’s where the real nightmare scenario comes into play. 1) I didn’t really know where I was even though I had been there a few times before. 2) I was with my somewhat hysterical cousin who ran sporadically and seemed determined to go the opposite direction I wanted to go in. 3) I was, and still am, totally out of shape 4) It was the 4th of July, so getting a cab was tough. The apartment building was in a residential area ten minutes away from any main streets, and the front desk guys told us that despite making numerous calls they couldn’t get a cab to come to the building, so we had to “just book it.” 5) We didn’t actually know where those guys were. They might have been behind us or right around the corner. We weren’t sure. 6) Brooklyn is filled with goons.

We ran around so much, and got so lost, we ended up running right back to the building we were running from. After about 15 minutes, I was convinced that there was no way we would ever find our way through the urban jungle without a cab. Two cabs passed by but both of them had passengers. Ten minutes later another cab stopped at a corner. I jetted up to it so frantically that the driver must have thought I was about to do some Grand Theft Auto shit because he cruised off. But then, finally, magically, wonderfully, a cab rolled up. And we got in. And then, it happened.

Here’s a transcript of my very own personal After Hours moment:

Me {Breathless}: Hey, I’m trying to go into Manhattan.
Cabbie: Are you sure? The train is right over there.
Me: No, no, no. I don’t want to take the train. Just drive me into Manhattan.
Cabbie: Where in Manhattan.
Me: Chambers Street.
Cabbie: Chambers and what?
Me: Look can you just start driving.
Cabbie: I can’t start unless I know where I’m going.
Me: We’re going to Manhattan.
Cabbie: Where in Manhattan?
Me: Chamber Street and ahh, do you know where the 4 train is?
Cabbie: No, but the JMZ trains are right over there.
Me: No! I don’t want to take that train. Just drive into Manhattan.
Cabbie: Where in Manhattan?
Me: Just drive me to the other side of the bridge. Just drive right into Manhattan and I’ll just get off there.
Cabbie: Which bridge?
Me: Whatever bridge goes into Manhattan! The closest bridge. The Brooklyn Bridge!
{Finally starts driving}
Cabbie: Okay, where in Manhattan do you want to go?
Me: Umm, I don’t know. Just take me to Grand Central. You know where that is, everyone does.
Cabbie: You sure you want to go there? That’s kind of far.
Me: I don’t care! Look, don’t worry. I have money. {Pulls out $28 dollars} I will give you all of my money if you just take me to Grand Central.
Cabbie: Are you sure you want to go there? It’ll be really expensive. Why not just take the train?

Somehow, we ended up at West 4th street. I took the train home. By the time I got back, it was already morning. But it turned out that I had forgot my keys (I had given them to my mom in the afternoon) and had to call my sister up and tell her to open the door for me.  FML indeed.

[1] Yes, it can only be a moment and not an entire night because then you’d actually be living the movie which is just impossible.
[2] It’s interesting that I was in Brooklyn while Paul Hackett was in SoHo. It only adds to my labeling of Brooklyn as the new place to be, despite never wanting to go there.
[3] No, I don’t know which river or what side of the city.