I meet my anonymous friend X (her preferred moniker, not mine) to see a screening of The Baltimorons, with a Q&A after with the filmmaker and one of the stars.
Though it takes less than 30 minutes to get to the West Village, it is world's away from my UES neighborhood. Young. Hip. Criss-crossed streets with actual names. Tons of people everywhere. Loads of history and equal amounts of charm.
We get to the theater early and it's about a quarter full. We take our seats, and soon after an older woman enters (she's alone) and takes the seat right next to X. One seat in from the aisle. A million empty seats in other places, and she opts for this one. That's bad enough. But then she takes out her phone and begins playing a video (not on mute). How can people be so annoyingly stupid? We move to another row.
The movie is fun, the Q&A great. We decide on pizza for a quick bite after. But not just any pizza. L'Industrie Pizza on Christopher Street.
According to Google:
L'Industrie Pizzeria is popular due to its high-quality, unique ingredients and a slow-fermented, thin and crispy crust, which elevates it beyond typical New York-style pizza.
The line (as expected) is long. And we're at least four decades older than anyone we see.
The place is packed inside too, while people await their orders.
Fortunately, X notices that the cute little place next door is filled with people eating from L'Industrie-labeled boxes. We ask if we can bring our pizza over, as L'Industrie has no tables. "Sure," is the response. "You just have to order drinks here." It's a nice symbiotic relationship, and works well for everyone. Even if two diet cokes cost $16.
The line goes fast and within twenty minutes or so I'm back next door where X is holding a table.
So is it worth it? We both agree; it's a resounding yes.
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