Tribeca Film Festival Day 3

This morning's walk took me to the Financial District. The Charging Bull and Defiant Girl have become quite a tourist attraction and were mobbed by tourists taking photo after photo. Quite a sight. I found the tranquility I was looking for at Trinity Church where I said hello to history and the 9/11 Memorial Park that was quiet as well. The art installation at Brookfield Place called "Roof" was not much to look at, but I got the concept. Roosevelt Park was full of joggers. A train ride north took me to Chelsea where I met Lucy at McManus Cafe for lunch. A landmark dive. The booths were green vinyl, the food was great and the service friendly. A few blocks away at Cineopolis we saw the film Permission.We both liked the film and the director and one of the actors conducted the Q&A. After we parted ways, I decided that I needed to spend some time in Tribeca so I went to what used to be one of my favorite bars in The Roxy Hotel. It was late afternoon and the maitre'd gave me one of those up and down looks that says he doesn't like the way you're dressed (jeans and cute top). I took a seat at the bar and the bartender proceeded to ignore me. It didn't take long for me to take my business elsewhere and I found a friendly stool at Edward's. A bowl of soup and a glass of wine tempered my mood. I noticed that Mike Birbiglia was in the line-up at the Comedy Cellar so I braved the rain and arrived a little before showtime. The stand-by line was down the block, so I decided just to go into the Olive Tree and have a drink. As I was leaving I almost walked into Colin Quinn who looked me right in the eye, smiled and said hello, so I left happy with my celebrity encounter. Back in Tribeca, I decided to have one last drink at Reade Street Pub. There was one seat at the bar so I took it and the guy next to me started to chat. The wine was flowing and when he asked me the same question 3 or 4 times I decided to leave. He had been trying to convince me that his "unconventional marriage" allowed him freedoms. The mistake he made was that he thought I was interested. The mistake I then made was going to The Patriot for "one more drink." There is a chandelier with bras hanging off it, there was a seat at the far end of the bar where a kind bartender named Patience was friendly and funny. Back at the hotel, I realized that tomorrow was going to be rough. A drunken night in Tribeca.