The Plays Just Part of the Thing

Saw the play turned movie "Frost/Nixon" tonight with my friend Greg.  We met in Ohio working for Obama and it turned out we had mutual friends in California. Small world as is the usual. I never cease to love that.  It was good to hang tonight. 

It was a good film and I really enjoyed how it built for me plus the two leads were great. I wish I had seen it on stage.  (Inside voice: "Can't you just be happy you saw it all? What, are you going to wish you saw it at the Donmar Warehouse in London before it came to New York you ungrateful sod!"  Well, yes, I do since we're going there. 

But the best part of the evening was when we went to the Flame Diner (yes, its real name) on 57th and 9th, I believe, and ate and talked.  It was bloody freezing getting there and so warm inside as diners tend to be this time of year. 

And we talked about writing which I loved.  Greg is a playwright and I want to be one. Greg is in his very early thirties and I want to be that too.  He is really a lovely charming guy and, well, ditto that as well.  He's Frost. I'm Nixon. 

The evening went something like this:

Act 1

(Cinema. Upper West Side. New York City. Night. Winter.)

No dialogue. Actors sit and watch film. 

Act 2

(Flame Diner. 57th and 9th. New York City. Night. Cold outside. Salmon and Turquoise inside.)

Stavros

 (A jolly yet world weary middle-aged Greek diner owner who has lived in the States since he was 14 but went back to Thessaloniki summers. He has an eye patch covering the non-wandering eye)

Boys sit where you like.  We make you feel right at home. That is if you live in a diner. 

(Greg and Pat laugh heartily even though they both know without ever having discussed it that he has said this line a 100 times.  They sit in a booth next to Siamese twins who argue over the staining potential of red sauce, a serious argument since they share they same angora sweater.)

Pat

So what kinds of things do you write about?  What do you like?

Greg

Patty melts. They have patty melts!

Pat

I like domestic dramas where the mom kills the dad with knitting needles and tries to pretend she slipped on a trout that dropped out of the grocery bag.

Greg

It can be so derivative don't you find?

Pat

 I think I will have Matzo Ball soup.

The rest of the evening went on and on like that, the young man so on his game and able to wolf down mega calories and the older guy wondering how many Weight Watchers points are in each ball. 

Greg so kindly picks up the tab and they walk out into the cold night and head for the subway - the young artist heading back to the historic and inspiring East Village and the other guy heading to the UWS -land of baby clothing stores and Duane Reades.  All the inspiring places went when the leases went up.

Pat

Damn it is cold out here. But I love it.  Don't I?  I mean that is what I tell everyone.  At least it is not raining. Where is your shower in your apartment anyway?

Greg

It's in the middle of our kitchen. But we are getting rid of it.  It is an old claw foot tub surrounded by a curtain that stands smack dab in the middle of our kitchen.  Soon we will shower in the bathroom like all you upper west side sell outs. I feel it may numb my creativity.

Pat

I see.  You mean you and your roommates shower RIGHT AFTER breakfast? I mean, RIGHT after? 

Greg

Yep. Sometimes during.

Pat

Cool.

They arrive at the subway station.

Greg goes down, Pat goes up. 

Fin.