I moved to New York City in March of 2011, and after my first week here I walked over to the Film Forum to see Bill Cunningham New York on its opening weekend. I was hoping for a memorable New York City experience, and we got one: we were turned away. Every show on Saturday had been sold out in advance. So we bought tickets for Sunday, arrived extra early, and stood outside in the cold in the line that had already formed.
The film was so much more than I was expecting or hoping for it to be, and it instantly became one of my favorite movies. I admired Bill not just for his body of work or for his work ethics, but also as a kind, gentle and funny human being. It became a goal of mine to see Bill in action on the streets of New York someday.
Throughout the year I’d hear from co-workers that they’d seen Bill working on 5th Avenue on this day or that, and I started to think I might have to actively search for him if I wanted to spot him, rather than wait for some rare chance encounter.
When Bill Cunningham New York finally came out on Netflix, I streamed it twice in one weekend. My girlfriend got me the DVD for Christmas, and I watched it twice in one night, along with the 20 minutes of extras. I even put it on my iPod so that I could listen to it on the subway, at lunch, or even while I work (I often listen to movies instead of music). At this point I’ve seen the film over a dozen times, and can freely quote from any scene.
I’m about two weeks away from marking off my first year here in New York. In that time I’ve developed a Sunday routine that I rarely stray from: I take the subway from the West Village to Times Square, head to a restaurant called Schnipper’s, which is next door to the New York Times building, have lunch while reading my favorite magazine, The New York Times Magazine, fill up on lots of free Diet Coke refills, then head to the Hell’s Kitchen Flea Market for an afternoon of treasure hunting.
Yesterday was no different from any other Sunday in terms of routine (except that I had to use a different subway line because my normal one was shut down), but it was spectacular for this reason: sitting at my usual table — a two-seater next to their floor-to-ceiling window — and reading my New York Times Magazine, I glanced up and saw Bill Cunningham walking on the sidewalk toward me. I must’ve had a look of astonishment — or at least recognition — on my face, because he smiled and nodded at me as he passed. He walked briskly around the corner, where I saw a friend join him, and together they continued walking down 8th Avenue.
I looked at all my stuff spread out before me on the table: my lunch with just a couple bites taken out of it, my gloves, my scarf, my magazine, my jacket on the chair opposite me, and my iPod and iPhone sitting just in front of me. I hesitated for a moment before hastily grabbing my iPod and iPhone, and rushing out of the restaurant, leaving behind the rest of my stuff. I ran down 8th Avenue and turned the corner at 38th to find Bill and his friend walking just ahead of me. I raced up ahead of them and politely interrupted their conversation, telling Bill I’m a huge fan of his work and his film. I showed him that I had his movie on my iPod, and told him it was my favorite film of 2011. Bill had a big, friendly smile on his face the whole time. “There are 20 minutes of bonus footage on the DVD,” his friend said. “I know, I own it and have watched the extra footage many times,” I answered. I was obviously overwhelmed. “Did you leave your lunch and things behind just to come out here and catch me?” Bill asked in his unmistakable accent and inflection. I had, I told him. “Your lunch is more important!” he said in his typically humble fashion, and with a warm laugh.
I didn’t want to embarrass him with much more attention, or hold him up from his day, so I asked if I could take a quick photo with my iPhone. He said sure, still beaming from this amusing interruption. I take snapshots all day with my iPhone, and rarely have a problem with focus, but of course this one came out blurry. Anyway, I treasure it:
I left without even telling Bill my name, and headed back to my lunch (where everything was as I left it). I texted my girlfriend that I’d just met Bill (in all caps, with three exclamation marks), posted Bill’s photo on my Facebook page, slowly ate my lunch, and finished reading my magazine. I listened to his movie on my iPod the whole time.
About an hour later I started to pack my things up, when I spotted Bill out front unlocking his bike. I decided not to bother him, even though I’d have loved to have talked to him more. He took to the street on his bike and glanced in my direction. I waved a little from inside the restaurant, unsure if he could even see me from that distance, and with the difference in lighting. He gave me a big grin and waved back, and headed up 8th Avenue.
It was a surreal and fantastic New York City experience
