Moving in - or at least trying

Now that it has been nearly a week since I’ve moved to New York, I’m finally getting around to writing about my move in. For those of you who don’t know, I did a two step move to New York. Last Friday, I picked up the Penske truck, loaded it with nearly all my belongings at my Mom’s house, loaded it with the rest of my belongings at my Dad’s house, and then drove to Cleveland where my roommate, Karie, lived. It was my first time driving a sixteen foot truck and I was incredibly timid at first. It took me a long time to pull out of the Penske parking lot. It was even worse when I was driving through Sylvania with half of my stuff in the back. Since I wasn’t finished packing yet, I hadn’t secured everything properly and I could hear as things shifted around in the back. After driving the two hours to Cleveland, however, I felt like a seasoned pro. I arrived in Cleveland and we packed up Karie’s stuff as well. When all was said and done, we didn’t even have a foot of space to spare. We had loaded boxes, clothing, and furniture from the floor to the ceiling and from the front to the back.

That night Karie’s friends came over and we all hung out talking, watching the Brown’s game, and having a few beers. They were all really nice people and it was a good time. They left and we got to sleep some time around 12:30. My alarm went off at 5am and we sucked down coffee, ate some square bagels, and hit the road. I ended up driving the entire way to New York. By this time I had began to really enjoy driving the truck. When cars would cut me off, I would exclaim that I hated cars and wished they wouldn’t let them on the road. (It was fun to be on the opposite side of things)

The drive here was completely painless. It was entirely too easy. We didn’t hit any traffic to speak of. We didn’t even have a single slow down. We blew right past the dots in Pennsylvania. That being said, we made it to the city with plenty of time to spare. Molly was going to help us unpack when we got there and Karie had two friends to help as well. With all those hands to help, unpacking was going to be a breeze. The only thing that stood between us and unpacking the truck was navigating the behemoth through the city and finding a parking spot. Neither one was an issue at all. Driving through the city was slow and laborious, but it really wasn’t bad at all. The only thing really worth mentioning about that leg of the trip was the fact that people kept trying to hail us. It was really amusing actually. We were driving a huge, sixteen foot, yellow moving truck, but people kept mistaking us for a taxi. I would see them put their hand up to hail us, then realize what they had done and put their hand down with an embarrassed look on their face. It was great. When we finally got to our block, we found a big metered space two hundred feet from our door. There was even enough space to pull out the ramp from the back of the truck. It really was entirely too easy. It was almost like it was too good to be true. Something surely had to go wrong…

Our next step was to pick up our keys from the super. Karie had talked to him earlier in the day and he had given her his address. He told her to stop by when we got in. Since he only lives around the corner, it was a quick walk. We got there, knocked on the door, and a woman answered and gave us our keys. Again, it was just way too easy.

We walked back to the apartment like giddy schoolchildren. We excitedly talked about what we were going to do first, what our predictions were about the apartment, and what we thought the unpacking would be like. We got back and I slid the key labeled, “1626 front door” into the lock. It slid in perfectly. I tried to turn it. I tried again. I tried harder. Oh freakin’ crap, the key wouldn’t turn. I moved aside and let Karie try. No luck. I tried again. Nothing. Well shit, this is not so good. I pointed out that we could always call the super later, but for now I wanted to start the unloading process. I buzzed a couple of apartments in our building until someone unlocked the door and we went in to see our apartment. I tried one key in the door – nothing. I tried another – nothing. I tried another – it slid right in and turned with a clunk as the lock disengaged. Hooray, success. I tried the door, but it still wouldn’t open. Ah, the deadbolt must still be locked. Unfortunately, there was a strange metal cover over the deadbolt lock and we couldn’t fit a key into it. There was no way that we were going to get into our apartment.

Alas, we trudged down the stairs and called the super – no answer. Karie called the management company and got a snippy response about talking to the super. The manager said that he didn’t have a set of keys and there was nothing he could do. After a short argument, he told us to come to his office and pick up his spare front door key, but he didn’t have an extra set of our apartment keys. With no other choice, we walked about a mile roundtrip to the manager’s office only to find that he had “just stepped out to go to the bank.” Real nice… I talked to his secretary (or whoever the heck she was) and she gave me the key he had promised us and, at my request, tried to call the super back. She couldn’t get a hold of him either, but as we were about to leave, the manager came back. There is no dancing around his description. Plain and simple, he was an obnoxious prick. He was completely uncaring about our situation. When I pointed out the fact that he only gave us the front door key and we still had no way of getting into our apartment, he snapped at me to call the super. He doesn’t have keys, so it isn’t his problem. I told him that we were unable to get a hold of the super and his secretary was as well, so he tried to call him. He either had a cell phone number or just pretended to talk to the super, because fifteen seconds after the secretary got no answer, the manager “talked” to the super. He told us that the woman we had seen earlier would be over to let us in.

We walked back to our apartment absolutely fuming. This was not the way that we wanted to start our life in the city. At this point we were also debating the existence of the super. We were told that our super was a man named Angelo, but there was a woman’s voice on the answering machine, a woman who answered the door at the apartment, and a woman who was coming over to let us in.

We got back to the apartment and started waiting for the super. While we waited, one of Karie’s friends arrived and the three of us tried again to get into the front door. The key that the manager had given us wasn’t even close to the size of the lock and didn’t help at all. Since our original key fit the lock, we kept trying that one. Eventually Karie got it to work. The secret, we’ve since discovered, is that you can’t put the key all the way into the lock. You need to put it in and then pull it back out about an eighth of an inch. Then it would turn. That would have been useful information to know, but no one had bothered to say anything. Ok, at least we were able to get into the building, but that didn’t help us get into the apartment. Since it had been about forty-five minutes since the super was supposed to show up, Karie called back. The woman who was supposed to be there helping us answered the phone. Karie explained that we were able to get into the apartment, but we still didn’t have a way of unlocking the deadbolt. The woman told us that she didn’t have a key to the deadbolt either, but it shouldn’t be locked. Well, that was really helpful. She told us that she would call someone and hung up the phone. In the meantime, Karie and her friend went up to try and figure out the door while Molly and I stayed down on the street to wait for the super. A few minutes later they came down the stairs with smiles on their faces. Karie’s friend had figured out how to get into the apartment. In order to get in, we have to turn the key once to disengage the deadbolt and then turn the same key again to disengage a secondary lock. I’ve never seen a lock like this and again, it would have been great to have been told that. Regardless, at least we were able to get into the apartment. Karie called the super back to report our success and we felt stupid, but not that stupid, because that was a little ridiculous.

We did a quick walk through of the apartment and everything was dirty. Have you ever seen that episode of Friends where Ross dates the girl with the dirty apartment? He goes to her place and there’s nowhere to sit and at one point he gets black goop all over his hand? Three of those girls used to live in my apartment. We didn’t understand how it could even be so dirty. We had seen the place a month prior and it was in great shape. It was almost like they had gone out of their way to add dirt as they were moving out. The bathroom looked like it hadn’t been cleaned since the Second World War. The kitchen sink had grapes in the drain. The fridge still had food in it. (including half a starbuck’s iced coffee) Every single closet and storage space had something left in it. We found one shoe, used band aids, peanut shells, and all sorts of other stuff. It was gross, but at least I didn’t find a collection of nail clippings like when I moved into Madeline’s place.

We started unloading the truck and, after about fifteen minutes, Karie’s friend announced that she had to leave. She was going out of town for the weekend, so she had to go home and pack. Karie’s other friend conveniently went out of cell phone contact, so it was just Karie, Molly, and I unloading the truck. Molly was really a lifesaver. We needed one person to stay with the truck and two people to carry things, so if she hadn’t been there, we would have been out of luck. Shortly after we started unloading, I felt something hit my hand. I looked down and saw that a pigeon had shat on me. Welcome to New York… At one point, a sketchtastic couple came up to the truck and offered to help unload for a small fee. I told them that we were ok on our own and they argued a bit, called me cheap, and then walked off. (For those of you who will get this reference, they looked a lot like Bubb Rubb and Lil’ Sis.) It was a slow process getting things down the street and then up the two flights of stairs into the apartment, but after about two and a half hours and off and on rain, we got everything unloaded. We were all exhausted and utterly worn out. We ate dinner at a great little burger place across the street and called it a night.

At some point during the unloading process, I saw a man taking the trash out. His shirt said Angelo, so I introduced myself. He asked if the key situation was cleared up. I told him that it was and apologized for the confusion. He just rolled his eyes at me. It was fantastic. My super already hates us. I apologized again and told him that we needed a mailbox key. He told me that he couldn’t get to it that day, but he assured me that he would get me a key the next day. It’s now five days later and we still don’t have a mailbox key. I’ve left a couple of messages, but they haven’t been returned. I even explicitly stated that I’ve tried all the keys we have and none of them even come close to fitting the lock, so I’m sure it’s not an issue like before. I can tell that it’s going to be a fun time dealing with this super…

There’s nothing much to say about the unpacking / setting up the apartment process. When the mess is cleared up, I’ll post some pictures of the apartment. I was really discouraged on the day of the move in, but by now I really love the apartment. We did about six hours of cleaning, so I don’t have to wear sandals in the shower anymore. We have our furniture (mostly) set up and we still have a lot of space. It’s a huge apartment for New York and the neighborhood is great. We’re surrounded by great bars and restaurants. We’re really close to a post office, a grocery store, a hardware store, a Chase branch, a Best Buy, and everything else that we need.