First We take Manhattan

Today was the first day off I've had in close to a month. I had a perfectly nice plan to go into the city and see the new Leonard Cohen documentary, aptly titled Leonard Cohen, I'm Your Man playing at Film Forum. I have a hard time telling New York's arthouse theaters apart, and it was only after I arrived that I realized, I had never before seen a movie at Film Forum before. Because they have been, without fail, sold out. But I arrived with forty-five minutes to spare and figured that I could run my one errand of the day, going to the bank, after I bought tickets. Instead when I plonked my debit card down on the counter I was told that they only took cash, but there was an atm around the corner. I figured I could run to the bank and be back in time to make the movie, but of course when I got back (all of twenty minutes later) it was sold out I had to buy a ticket for the next showing, two and a half hours later. If I had had a book with me this would have been fine, I could find a coffeshop and kill two and a half hours no problem. But I didn't.
So instead I got a delicious beet and goat cheese sandwich at the Sullivan Street Bakery and read a few articles in the Times Styles Section. Afterwards, I decided to head over to the river but was confronted by two unexpected occurences: rain and 16 year old divos. The rain I could have dealt with, but 200 hundred 16 year olds in last Halloween's Rainbow Brite costumes was another matter. I walked west along Charles Street, only to get sucked into the vortex of the Gay Pride Parade and spend the next two hours wending my way back down to Houston Street. Somewhere around Christopher Street and Washington Street, I got stabbed by a kebab skewer in the crush of the crowd.
By the time I got to my seat at the theater, I was irritated and exhausted. The movie fortunately was amazing. It was not only a musical retrospective but also a spritual journey, I felt inspired and transformed by the time the credit's rolled. I've long respected Cohen's song-writing ability, but I like covers of his songs more than his own versions. The performances, which had all been taped at a concert last year at Sydny's Opera House, were interspersed by interviews with Cohen and the musicians participating in the concert. Once I got over the interviews interupting the music, I fell in love with the movie.
On my way home, I sated my craving for Mexican food at Le Esquina with a avocado con queso torta. The service was ridiculously amateur with two hipsters manning the counter. The boy hipster spilled my change all over the place when handing it to me and didn't seem to notice. While waiting for my food, I watched as domestic hipsters tried furtively to gain access to the "speakeasy" downstairs and foreign hipsters confusedly tried to order food. The sandwich itself was a party in my mouth.