Fellini in a post 9-11 world

Often I stare at the wall and wish my life were a Fellini movie, black and white and imbued with deep meaning on the one hand, and utter Catholic-kinky nonsense on the other. I also wouldn't mind looking like Claudiaor macking Marcello. Tuesday night in the Midtown Tunnel, I had my chance to live the quintessential Fellini dream: I got stuck in a tunnel.

Due to a midnight hold-up at the tunnel exit (a coffee truck had to be tooth-brush combed for explosives), for 20 minutes my driver and I were stranded in a long, long line of cars. At Minute 10, while cars started a song of honks, I got excited as I imagined hitting the roof and then floating out of the car to Long Island City, a flight which would spark a surreal reflection onto my young life as a film director, acted out by struggling Goth actors and my disgruntled family.

Who doesn't love that opening tunnel car-jam sequence of 8 1/2? It makes traffic look fun. Indeed, the tunnel scene must be quite beloved, given its frequent ripping off for music videos by R.E.M., Radiohead and the like.



Instead of gasping impatiently, my (apparently cinephile) Driver and I giggled about our parallel to Fellini's 8 1/2. Only my Driver, an Iraqi, was not quite as giggly. His giggles were more of a nervous variety, especially when I popped my digital camera out the window to take a picture of the surreal Fellini jam. "M'am, no pictures after 9-11," he said. That's when two white drunk guys, apparently frustrated with the hold-up, got out of their taxi and started walking back to Manhattan, stranding their cab driver. Just in case they were inconspicuous to the surveillance cameras, they screamed and laughed.

Watching them in the rear view mirror, my driver chuckled more easily. "They're in trouble." He looked at his watch.

Sure enough, sixty seconds later a cop car swooshed past us and made an arrest.









I did manage to get one picture, and even arrive home safely with a clean police record intact. But somehow, things look different in color-- more digital, more mundane, and certainly not quite as good as a Fellini.