Cinema

cinemaThe 25th screen at the AMC Empire 25 is so high up your nose begins to bleed. After your journey of seven escalator rides to see the stars, you look out the window, high above the treacherous hell of Times Square, and swear you’re in… Midtown East. Sure, it’s not better, but somehow it is, isn’t it? You feel like everything going to be okay. As you settle into your unbearably bouncy seat, as your spine begins to strain from the pressure of folding itself into a chair built for a man two feet taller and two feet wider than you, as you look incongruously down from your raised stadium row at the screen, you forget about New York. You forget it’s pouring in Times Square. You forget about the throngs of umbrella pushers lined up outside the Duane Reade to rush at the opiate scented tourists like linebackers. For now it is just you, high above the masses, watching a movie, your hand wrapped around a sweating Diet Coke, finally feeling somewhat alone.

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One response to “Cinema

  1. Not exactly the Purple Rose of Cairo, though, was it?

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