“Seriously, Jorge? You need to get out more?”

“What’s it to you if I go out or not?”

“Jorge…you just asked me if I knew any good V-C-R repair! Who has a VCR anymore?”

“Just because I don’t waste money buying every brand fandangled new-”

“Serious Detective, go OUT! Go see a movie, do something to relax before you drive us all crazy!”

The detective sighed as he remembered his conversation with one of the female officers and he had to admit that while he was a little taken back by the accusation that he did not “get out more,” in the end, part of him did believe that she was right. After all, what were his plans going to be on his nights off? Except for sitting at home, watching some old VHS movies and having dinner with Lizzie, there really was not much difference when compared to every other night. Still, the thought he was going to be out and among people when he was not working out or on the job had just slightly unsettled him.

As he turned a corner, Jorge gave a sigh as he heard the clamour of noise, the laughing, the cheering, the excited giggles and cries and he knew he was here…The Tribeca Film Festival. Never had the detective been to something like this so he knew that this was going to be an experience.

Hands stuffed into his long coat pockets he immediately took in the vision of this startling display of indie film and the festivities that it brought with it. Vendors were laid out, people of various backgrounds all joined together to enjoy the premieres of both popular and indie cinema, as well as just take part in the joining of their fellow man in a joyful setting. For a moment, Jorge felt just slightly out of place, as if all these New Yorkers would suddenly realize that there was a man fresh from Florida amongst them. But as he entered and began to walk the grounds, he knew that he became nothing more part of the sea of faces.

He relaxed slightly as he began to wander and immediately saw signs that grabbed his interest. An Irish Short Film festival was going on today. For a moment he stood there and stared at the sign before he finally convinced himself that he would give it a shot. Jorge tried to be as open minded when it came to movies so he figured what could it hurt?

“Who knows, maybe they’ll be pretty good,” he muttered to himself and headed for there the Irish films would be shown.

Lenna was right there behind him.

She didn't know what it was about movies that got her. Maybe it was the escape? Movies painted stories up on the silver screen; there was something magical about it. Maybe it was the way actors were, or the way thing seemed simpler, yet sometimes, so complicated. Maybe it was the mythic characters that won her over? Characters like Shane, Rick Blaine, and J.J. Gittes stood out alongside Harry Callahan. Maybe it was that?

Who knew? Whatever it was, Lenna liked it. She liked movies. She'd read about the Irish film festival in the paper, and decided to go. It was as simple as that.

Judging from the way the crowd was lined up, she figured she was in for a good show.

Maybe, she'd even meet someone.

Yeah, tonight had the potential to be very fun.

“Oh great,” Jorge muttered the second he saw the line for the Irish short film festival.

For that second the detective had second thoughts about continuing on with this plan. After all, what did he care if everyone thought he was some electronically challenged shut in? Honestly, it was not any of their business if he spent his free time at home or working extra hours. All the overtime he could get allowed him to get more money after all, and every second he was out on the street, there was hopeful one more mutant criminal taken off the streets. That was the reason he came to New York, to lend his abilities and skill as a police officer to make the city a safer place.

At what cost? he thought silently.

Did he really want to become that man? Well, he already was, but did he really want to stay that way? Did he want to be that person whom the world would scarcely miss if he were gone, having made little to no connections? What would happen after his parents passed away? Who would care when it came for his turn to be gone? He certainly did not have any real or close friends since moving to New York…so far just enemies.

He sighed as he started to move up the line, noticing all the people that frequent these types of things. He noted the fake people, the ones who only came to these things to say they gone to them, as well as those that were truly the artists who understood and loved these types of things. All of them made for an interesting mix and in this situation, Jorge took advantage of it. If there were one thing he loved to do was people watch, to catch insignificant snippets of other people’s lives, just enough of them for him to think about and assume.

For example…off to the right he watched a trio, two men, one bald, the other with black hair, and a woman, a blonde, who seemed to be deeply conversing about one of the films they have just left. He noted that the bald man and woman wore matching wedding rings, but they did not act like that…well, not the woman anyway. Her gaze was locked solely on the blonde man as she laughed and nodded at each and every intelligent phrase and joke he uttered. Obviously there was an affair going on there.

Ahead of him, at the box office, a teen was arguing with the female cashier. It was obvious that he wanted to be let in for free, claiming that why was the person acting in that way. She gradually mentioned something about seeing him kiss her best friend and that it was over between them. Which meant no more freebies into the movies. Above them, on the marquee sat several pigeons, all of which cooed softly and scuttled from side to side on the sign, some merely sat still, eye closed as they watched the happenings down below.

He turned back and noted a teenager, a girl who wandered around with a digital camcorder and energetically filmed everything around here. But he noticed that she did not seem to focus on people, instead she kept raising the camera to catch buildings, the sky, and other various objects. She was definitely an artist.

And behind him…

A 20-something year old woman with short, blond hair. She actually seemed to be somewhat excited to be heading into these movies. He could not read her, except that these types of movies were probably something that she really enjoyed, so when she looked at him, he gave her a short, friendly smile and nod, and turned back in front of him.

That was when he noted that the box office was finally free. He stepped forward and removed his wallet from his coat.

“Just one please,” he said as he started to pull out the cash.

But, just as he removed the money, he felt the soft splash and squish of something as it hit his shoulder. He paused and turned curiously to his shoulder and saw the white splotch. Then he looked up and noted the pigeon who had turned and just relieved himself.

“Oh you’ve GOT to be kidding?” Jorge muttered to himself and ignored the giggling cashier in front of him. He shot her a look as he took his ticket, change and headed inside. He would have to get some napkins fast or forever stain his coat. But before he left he pointed two fingers at his own eyes, then pointed those same figures at the pigeon who cooed happily. “Watching you,” was all he muttered as he entered the theater.

Silence. Lenna said not a word. What was the proper decorum to discard in situations such as these, where men ahead of you in line get pood on by pigeons? Probably to avoid it. Her eyes drew up to the pigeons. She too was watching the birds. The man left, and Lenna stepped up to the cashier. She held up a finger. "One." Get her ticket, change, and went. Into the theater, after the man with the unfortunate stain on him.

Luckily, she met no pigeon resistance. She was good with pigeons, it seemed... if past experiences meant anything, very good.

Inside the theater, Lenna's first thought was to get a soda. She glanced to the long line and rethought her plans. Getting a soda could wait.

The detective escaped into the men’s room and placed himself in front of the sink while he slipped off his coat. Thankfully the bird had not got his coat too badly so he did his best to wash off any of the evidence. The wet paper towel tore slightly as he scrubbed off the stain. Thankfully it did not take long and in the end all that remained on his coat was a large warm water stain. Once he was done, he washed his hands profusely, over and over with scalding hot water to take any of the germs off. Last thing he needed was to catch bird flu or something at Tribeca.

He decided it would probably be best to not wear the coat until it dried so he folded it, rather sloppily, over his arm and exited the restroom. The theater was smaller than he figured and packed to the brim. Apparently there were a lot of people here who wanted to claim they were film nuts. He was not surprised. In a culture where people base practically every conversation on trying to one-up somebody how could you not expect them to flock to the nearest trendy thing? In this case it was Tribeca.

Then again, there were people here for legitimate reasons, such as love of film. Jorge was more of a reader, but he did not mind the independent film every now and then. So long as it was not about Rhinestone cowboy hats and their journey through England or something. Some films could be a little over his head.

As he turned about, he noticed that one of the lines had suddenly shrunk down so he quickly joined it. After only a small wait of listening to someone ask if they had tofu-corn (don’t ask), he finally achieved his set goal of attaining a large bottle of water and a box of Red Vine licorice (the greatest movie candy in history), and disappeared into the movie theater.

The large room was dark, yet classy. It was vintage, probably from the old days when Hollywood movies really belonged on the Silver Screen. Jorge followed up the stairs, watching as people disappeared into the rows and rows of seats. Once he found one that was far enough back he squeezed down the lane, little bothering to see whom he was sitting next to, and got comfortable. He remained quiet as the screen in front of them flashed various forms of trivia and then…came the listing for the movies to come. Today they would be shown Winner of Best Film… “Rhinestone Odyssey”.

“You’ve got to be kidding?” he chuckled as a quick synopsis for the film flashed on the screen.

The exciting journey of a famous singer’s (Bono) lucky rhinestone hat as it makes its way from his Ireland estate onto a three day journey across country before his big performance in London.

The look on Jorge’s face was priceless as he read the summary and could only shake his head with a chuckle. This is what I get for going out.

Wait, the long line did. Lenna played Tekken.

Lenna had never played Tekken before. She was so used to fighting in real life, it was refreshing to see her losing a fight now and then. It ate through quarters, though.

By the time she'd decided she'd had enough, the line had died down to a trickle. She'd purchased her Cola and a box of chocolate-covered raisins, and made her way to the theater. She settled into her row, and watched the pre-show.

The movie trailers started.

Someone said something, and Lenna glanced at the person in the seat behind her one row. She arched an eyebrow at the man. "Problem with cowboys?" She asked.

Jorge sighed as he watched the trailer for epic “Rhinestone Odyssey” come to an end. He had figured that his comment was soft enough that no one could hear. To be honest the detective hated going to theaters in which people were not quiet. He usually was the one to speak up against yellers, cell phone talkers, etc., but unfortunately, on this day, he descended into that madness. He thought it was low enough, what he said, so that only he could hear it, but apparently Tribeca brought out all the movie wannabes who snarled at you if you so much as made a bad pun about a silly movie. That seemed to be the case now.

After his self-made comment, he watched as a woman from the row ahead of him turned to face him. He remembered her face and hair from a quick glance he gave her in line. She much have been one of those movie aficionados.

>> "Problem with cowboys?"[/color]

It’s a move…about a rhinestone…HAT! That was what the detective wanted to say, but he remained silent on the matter. Well…mostly…

“Not a thing.” he said as he shook his head. “Rhinestone cowboy hats…that’s another story.”

He shot her a friendly smile then he turned his attention back to the screen. Hopefully that would be the end of it. He really did not feel like getting into an argument in a movie theater on one of his few, precious days off. His attention back on the string, the detective pulled out a piece of licorice and quietly chewed on it and awaited the next movie trailer.

Is that...Gerald Butler in drag? he thought to himself as he watched trailer and sipped his water.

Lenna glanced back at the screen, but the trailer had already ended. Hrm. "I had not noticed the Rhinestone," She commented, looking over her shoulder again. "I'll agree with you there. I am not okay with Rhinestone hats. Hats shouldn't be shiny... and shirts shouldn't have crazy tassles and lacy frills like some of those concert-style cowboy singers. I'd rather the cowboys in that movie be John Wayne grade, or maybe Clint Eastwood."

She fell silent for a second, sipping her soda, then decided to strike up yet another conversation. She didn't turn, but kept talking. "Whatever happened to classic cowboys, anyways. It is so rare today to find a good rugged Western man with his own code in a movie... unless it has way too many explosions, and a plot that doesn't make sense."

>> "I had not noticed the RhinestonI'll agree with you there. I am not okay with Rhinestone hats. Hats shouldn't be shiny... and shirts shouldn't have crazy tassles and lacy frills like some of those concert-style cowboy singers. I'd rather the cowboys in that movie be John Wayne grade, or maybe Clint Eastwood."

He chuckled silently as he listened to the woman rant a little. So maybe she was not one of the wannabe film theorists that tended to frequent Tribeca. Maybe she just wanted to go catch a movie and got pulled in my the allure of wanting to say that she had been to an independent film festival. Jorge was only here because he was forced to step outside of the box after his VCR broke down. Someone in this town had to know how to fix it. He would check the newspaper when he got home.

Ahh, Clint Eastwood, John Wayne, the classics that his father used to always make him watch as a kid. Yes, he did love those movies as well unfortunately he doubted anything like that would make it into this film festival.

>> "Whatever happened to classic cowboys, anyways. It is so rare today to find a good rugged Western man with his own code in a movie... unless it has way too many explosions, and a plot that doesn't make sense."[/color]

“I couldn’t agree with you more. Last new-ish one I saw was…that ‘3:10 to Yuma’ remake,” he shuddered at the thought. “Terrible. Give me the ‘Man With No Name’ series or ‘Hondo’ any day.”

She seemed too young to know any of those western references he made, but then again, he could be surprised.

He realized he was actually having a conversation. The prospect was a little funny, talking about old western movies at an independent film festival. The idea made him chuckle inside but he kept it in because he did not want to incur the wrath of any more film goers who were already shooting him and the young lady he was speaking to dirty looks. He mere glared back at them as he took another bite of his licorice.

“Who knows, maybe Rhinestone Odyssey will be the surprise hit. So long as they put a lot of explosions in it.” the prospect about a movie about a rhinestone hat diving away from explosions made him grin. Now that he said it out loud, someone would probably end up making it.

>>"... Give me the ‘Man With No Name’ series or ‘Hondo’ any day."

"Definitely," Lenna agreed. "There are too many classics, I guess. Impossible to improve upon them. High Noon, Shane, The Wild Bunch... honestly, they shouldn't even bother trying." She shook her head. Then, Lenna paused, glanced upwards, as if thinking about something, and commented "The last good modern Western I saw probably had to be... Unforgiven. Maybe the genre needs new takes like that... might be why there are fewer Westerns these days. It's like reinventing the wheel." Unforgiven had been good. It had broken a lot of classic Western myths. It'd even developed some ideas about how being a bounty hunter and killing for cash was low. That kind of hit close to home. Funny thought.

>>“Who knows, maybe Rhinestone Odyssey will be the surprise hit. So long as they put a lot of explosions in it.

"Who knows?" She shrugged. "It'd certainly be... different."

>> "The last good modern Western I saw probably had to be... Unforgiven. Maybe the genre needs new takes like that... might be why there are fewer Westerns these days. It's like reinventing the wheel."

The detective had to admit that he was pretty impressed with this stranger. She knew her westerns pretty well and that was always a check mark in his book. He smirked silently as he turned his gaze back up to the screen. He really could not remember the last good western he had seen. His father had gotten him into the movies, but ever since he joined the force, he saw less and less of them and spent more time with his books. There was good reason for that though. As they had pointed out to each other earlier, most, if not all new westerns were just plain bad.

Ah, Unforgiven, a Clint Eastwood, modern classic. He had to admit that that film really was pretty good…and one of the last movies he bought for VHS. Though Jorge put little thought into new movies, he did have to admit that that particular flick was pretty decent. It really went back to how Westerns were supposed to be made.

“Tell me about it,” he muttered as he relaxed a bit in his chair. “Producers are too concerned with stars and how many special effects they can fit into a films budget than about the story.”

It was only after this last comment that he finally turned to pay attention to the movie that had started to roll. Silently he prayed that the movie would be as avant garde as it sounded.

Fifteen minutes later…

Jorge wanted to chew his arm off.

Oh, sweet Lord was it bad. Lenna wasn't the type to run from her problems. She wanted to flee this. The acting was sup-par, the sets looked cheap, the plot was a knock-off of a knock-off she'd heard countless times, and the special effects were about as convincing as the acting in an adult movie. Point was, it was just bad.

With a sigh, Lenna glanced to the guy nearby, from her position slumped down in her seat. "Want to ditch?" She asked. The fresh air outside might have been better than the stale plot and acting in here. There were even books.

>> "Want to ditch?"

“Please.” Jorge had barely heard the words before he was already starting to get up on his feet.

It was needless to say but the movie really was that kind of atrocity. A whole epic journey concerning the trek of a lost, rhinestone hat? From the HAT’S perspective? It was utter madness if they expected him to sit through more than the fifteen minutes of life he had already lost to it! It was insanity! He finally just shook his head and agreed with his new found cowboy movie aficionado that it was time to duck out. Sure they took up spots that he was sure the rest of the indie movie buffs outside would have given their right arm to be in. But he was far from feeling bad about it.

That is what he got for taking a chance and going outside for fun. First thing tomorrow he was getting his VCR fixed. He didn’t care how much, it had to be better than this.

With a nod to his fellow escapee from indie film hell, Jorge stood and began to squeeze out from the aisle. He kept muttering his “excuse me’s” and “pardon’s” and finally just growled at anyone who got in his way. One more step out and he was finally free of grumbling, evil looks he got from the rest of the movie goers who pretended to enjoy and understand the film. Either they were a bunch of posers or he really had no idea what was going on in the film. He preferred to think that they were all posers.

Once he was free, he slowly began to make his way down the steep theater stairs and out of the darkened room. He didn’t know if the young lady he spoke would be following him, but he was thankful to her for the excuse to at least leave.

Lenna dumped the remnants of her empty snack boxes into a trash bin on her way out. They hit the sides of the bin with a cardboard bump. Lenna stepped out the entrance, onto the busy city street, and looked around for her fellow ditcher, who hopefully hadn't ditched her. She spotted him, a short ways down the stairs. Lenna caught up, stopping at his side.

"So," She started. "Lots of options. What do you want to spend your ditch time doing? I was thinking, book store. Or maybe, a walk."

The fresh air was nicer than the theater had been. The night sky overhead was dull and calm. A few wisps of cloud hung serenely overhead. Cars passed on the street by the theater. The noise around was distinctly different in nature than the calm of the sky.

The night air definitely felt good. It was better than being in a stuffy theater surrounded by people who spent their time pretending to know the deep meanings behind a movie that starred a rhinestone hat. He sighed a bit heavenly as he looked up, taking in the cool night air and staring at the clouds far above his head. Fall would be here soon and already the dark, wispy clouds overhead were beginning to denote that. He always enjoyed the Fall, much better than the hot summers. Miami was hot enough, summer time only made the whole experience irritating.

The detective had merely wanted to spend another second or two admiring the night when suddenly his thoughts were interrupted by the presence of the Cowboy afficienado.

>> "So…Lots of options. What do you want to spend your ditch time doing? I was thinking, book store. Or maybe, a walk."[/color]

He smiled warmly as he glanced over to her. She looked just as relieved to be out of that movie and theater herself. At least she had some sense to escape a bad movie when it crossed her path.

“Hm, how about a walk to a bookstore?” he asked, reveling in the new found freedom. This must have been was prison escapees felt like when they climbed that last fence and touched down open land.

The detective was not one to make friends with random strangers. No, far from that. If anything he was a closed off, gruff person that usually sent away anyone that crossed his path. But tonight was not supposed to be about that. He recently got only a month ago and still he had made no contacts, or even so much as really smiled at anyone. The least he could do as attempt to make a friend during his down time. Was there a better place to start than the shared loathing for bad indie films?

It was then he remembered his manners and held out his hand to her. “Name is Jorge, Jorge Cervantes. Nice to meet you, by the way.”