the smack factor

Last night I fulfilled at least one goal I had in my NYC life: attend a freakin’ free neighborhood event. After covering a book release party (which i’ll tell you about, promise), I met my couple crew (Rad and Bex and MartT and Natty Boh) at the corner of Ludlow and Broome. I arrived early at the lot - it was speckled with comfy little white foldaway chairs. I told the girl that I was checking in and she asked whether or not my people were with me (I had RSVP’d with 5). I said “they’re here, they’re my invisible friends” She stared at me, gaping and closing her mouth 3 times and said “well, no .. you can’t…” as if she was about to try and convince me that invisible friends are not allowed. I said “kidding” and found my front row seat. I was there with a handful of others to watch “Crossing Delancy” in a parking lot. for free! The movie was shown on the side wall of a bordering building. Smack in the middle of the Lower East Side.

There were hecklers, too. Little bike riding hoodlums weaved around the fenced border of the lot hooting and booing. I mean, there’s not much you can do to heckle a movie watching crowd. But you CAN distract them when you’ve done something to anger a scooter rider. Right in the middle of Amy Irving talking to a baby or some nonsense, an adorable hoodlum hit the velvet rope with his bike, thinking he could ride through it. He flipped over the gaurd rail and hit the ground running. That kid tore ass, and seconds later, I knew why. Roaring (well, as much as a moped can roar) up to the velvet rope were two squirrely fellows on a cute moped. One of them, sort of stout and definitely angry, jumped off his little crotch rumbler and picked up the blue and chrome abandoned bike, held it over his head and slammed it to the ground.

WHAM! WHAM!!!

He picked it up 2 or 3 times and hurled it and grunted. I want to say he pounded his chest with his fists and roared at the sky, too. Then he leapt on the moped and they were off. Probably 10 seconds later, two crackheads cameup to the front and tried to take the bike. The LES people obvi didn’t know what to do… they’re not the police, all they wanted to do was show that the LES has class. Crackhead #1 was adamant that the LES people take her number and that she’d get the bike to that kid. They let her. 10 minutes later another little hoodlum trundled by on his bike looking for his boy’s bike. After a few driveby’s he asked the front desk people where the heck the bike was. I can imagine the answer “oh, we gave it to that lady crackhead”.

The night was worth it - well at least that part. I plan to take advantage of as many of these LES flavored events. Their little tagline is “L.E.S is more.” They’re right. It’s way more than expected.