I e-mailed Jason about my depressing and extremely ghetto car woes. His response was to invite me to a movie screening and after-party. This is why we love Jason. Apparently, as part of his GenArt membership, Jason attends artsy-fartsy openings and premieres, attending sponsored open bar after-parties following each event.
Last night, I met him at the Metreon for a screening of Brick, a new indie film that was apparently a smash at Sundance. The movie was great, a kind of present day film noir with hilarious dialogue and a brilliant performance by Lucas Haas.
“There are some cute people in here, J.”
“Yeah, I know. Maybe we’ll see them at Fluid after the movie.”
The credits rolled and we headed down the block to the bar, a sign-less glowing purple door guarded by beefy security and some velvet ropes.
“It looks empty.”
“Yeah, but it’ll crowd up. Let’s go get drinks.”
Sponsored by Ciroc vodka and Stella Artois, Jason ordered 2 plastic “glasses” of vodka and we settled onto a corner booth of velvet and votives. The place did start to pick up after a while, and Jason and I began to observe those around us. Soon, we were joined by a middle-aged woman with crazy bangs who sat right down next to us and started bopping to the music. Hmm. Might as well see what she has to say, right?
“Did you enjoy the movie?”
(Screaming over the Bel Biv Devoe) “I didn’t see the movie! I was attending Donald Trump University down that block.”
Okay. Then how the hell’d you get in?
She continued to scream incoherently, Jason and I straining to make out random words amidst the gibberish. Jason leaned in. “Oh my god, she’s a complete tweaker.”
The tweaker was delighted to have people to talk to.
“I’m Beth and this is Jason.”
“Hey! So awesome to meet you. So Jason, what do you do? Are you an artist?”
“I’m an architect.”
“And Beth, what do you do?”
“I’m a cop.”
God bless him, Jason looked straight ahead and went with it.
“Oh my god. I have total respect for those that put their life on the line. Are you a uniform cop?”
I thought about that one for a second. “Yeah, I’m a uniform cop.”
“How long have you been a cop?”
“Wahoo!” She grabbed my arm. “Good for you!” She motioned down the Stella server and grabbed another beer. “Don’t worry, officer. I’m not driving back to Vacaville. I’m taking BART, girl.”
“Hey sweetheart, I’m off duty. Do whatever you’ve got to do.”
“Yeah! Can I get you a drink?”
Not having the heart to tell her that drinks were free, I said sure and off she went.
Jason laughed. “So, you’re a cop.”
“I know. I feel so powerful.”
She returned with a drink she may well have actually unwittingly paid for and dove right back in, this time discussing her love of lima beans, which makes sense, because she loves Lime-a, Peru so much.
“Do you guys smoke?”
“No!” We answered in unison, thrilled she was excusing herself once again. Angelique was clearly tensing up talking to a cop while on street drugs. Jason and I resumed our visual judging of the crowd, watching people get their photos taken for the society pages and kinda sad Nob Hill guys hitting on a little bit drunk Marina girls.
It was fun. I love GenArt.
We walked back to the parking garage and to our respective cars. “That was so fun. Thank you!”
“You’re welcome. There’s another one next month.”
“I’m so in. I’ll talk to you tomorrow. But I’ve got to run.”
“I gotta put an APB out on Angelique…”