Wednesday, June 22, 2011

I Took A Trip And Have A Flat!

In our last exciting episode, I'd recently moved in to my parents' place across town for the interim between leaving my apartment and finding a new one. The Craigslist apartment hunt began almost immediately after the move and I posted this ad in order to up my chances of finding an awesome roommate while I scoured the crazy places being offered by crazy people:

"Late 20s male graphic designer/vfx artist looking to live in a place with 1-3 other people. Interested in rooming with hilarious, creative types who like teaming up on awesome projects. I would not be against rigging up a switch in the place that activates Stealth Mode, making all of the light in the place red like on a submarine. I don't smoke or do drugs, but love to have drinks and discuss science, time travel, and which historical figure we'd eat and why. Looking to move into a place in Brooklyn, in or around Williamsburg, but can be convinced otherwise if an awesome place is found. Don't be stupid-messy or have hella obnoxious pets. Bonus points if you like making up mixed drinks like "I Have No Faith In Science" (vodka + warm water), "I Wasted My Youth And Am Paying For It Now" (gin + Sunny D + diet coke + sour patch kid), or "Sidesaddle Motorcycle" (hot chocolate + bailey's + enough marshmallows that it straddles the boundary between drink and food). We can always flip the couch over (for cover) and play Duck Hunt over it because I'm bringing my Nintendo."

I posted another one the following day:

"HERE is a Worthwhile Economy

Seeking to procure a room for let, as well as one to three co-tenants, in or around the Williamsburg area of the Brooklyn borough. In search of a well-plumbed flat with elec-tricity, near in location to the Interborough Rapid Transit lines as well as the automat. Would prefer a trustworthy, hygienic room-mate with good personal character and a predilection for joviality. No individuals prone to bigotry, brigandry, or bouts of fisticuffs need apply. The ideal room-mate would also be resistant to the lure of the Opium Den and would partake in tobacco-related excursions in the out-of-doors. I am a gentleman in the sunset years of my twenties with an admiration for cleanliness and a respect for the privacy of my potential co-habitators. I ply my trade of graphical-design both for stipend and for leisure and seek co-tenants similarly inclined in the creative arts. I like to enjoy an evening at the speakeasy or a night at home with the victrola and the snifter. I have been known to regularly take in the Talkies as well as the Vaudies.

You may respond to this circular via electronic-telegram at the address listed above. Thank you for you interest."

It turns out that posting ads for roommates was probably the best apartment-finding decision I made in this whole tiresome ordeal. After a day or so of the first ad's posting, I received an email from a potential roommate, which turned into twenty emails, shared beers, two days of apartment hunting, the signing of a lease, and a July 2nd move-in date. Every sign indicates that the new roommate, Ashley, is exactly the kind of person I was looking for in terms of hilarity, non-craziness, stability, potential adventuring, and worldliness.

The discovery of the place itself is a harrowing tale of daring-do. I made my way up to NYC early Monday morning and returned the following Sunday. The initial plan was to go by bus, but the bus I took last time, Sky Express, had recently been shut down by the government because of terrible safety standards, injuries, and deaths. I guess that's what you pay for when you buy a $30 bus ticket. I waited too long to buy tickets from the only competing bus line from Charlotte to NYC and discovered that tickets were sold out until Wednesday. I gave in and bought JetBlue tickets, which were about $200 more than the bus tickets, and $250 BELOW the other airlines, and resumed my Monday-to-Sunday plan. This turned out to be a fantastic decision, as it left me with a full night's sleep, extra leg room, two travel hours of relative comfort, all of the free soft drinks I could guzzle (zero, because I was sleeping), and virtually no fear that I would die sometime during the transportation leg of the trip. We, as a species, and as North Carolinians, invented flight for a reason, and that reason was to lessen the Probablility Of Dying on long voyages. By Air truly is the most godlike way to travel.

I saw a place soon after arriving in town that I considered pretty seriously for a while. The place is a loft in Bushwick, Brooklyn, inhabited by three motion designers. My subject line about render farms in my email instantly won them over. The place seemed like a good bohemian-style artist place, which I imagine would be fun for a good long while. I think I'd probably have taken the place and loved it if I hadn't met up with Ashley and realized that we could actually get our own place without worrying about fitting into someone else's already-existing (and probably-shitty) lifestyle. Honestly, though. There are people on Craigslist who have ads that say things like, "No guests can ever come over ever." What in the hell fun is that? Who am I supposed to drink made-up drinks with and who will eat the all the hot dogs I baked up? All of these nachos will go to waste in my stomach while I cry myself to sleep.

Ashley, who's a New York native, immediately helped me out in my "Between Zero And Five Bullets" rating system for the various parts of Brooklyn and I fear I may someday owe her a Wookie Life-Debt because of it. She borrowed a car and we drove all over Brooklyn on Thursday seeing potential apartments. We posted an ad on Craigs that morning to see if we could scrounge up a third roommate on short notice in case we found the perfect three-bedroom place. A gentleman by the name of Jamie, who was quickly renamed Boy Jamie, responded to my ad and we determined a meeting time/place between apartment viewings. Boy Jamie got lost, so we ended up picking him up off of a street corner in the sketchiest way possible (me leaning out of the car window at a red light and yelling, "Jamie!" and then waving him over to get into the car with two people he'd never met) and interviewing him as we drove to our next apartment viewing. Jamie seemed to have an air of Radness about him and I imagine he would have made a great roommate, but just before we dropped him off at the subway, Ashley and I viewed the second-to-last apartment of the day.

We loved it.

We called the gentleman who showed us the place and let him know we wanted to take it. He smiled (over the phone - I could tell) and told us we could come in and fill out applications in the morning. That's when everything started to go to hell. I called the gentleman early the next morning to confirm the 11:00 appointment and he informed me that he had bad news: someone had begun filling out an application for the place just before he showed it to us on Thursday and the office never called to tell him. Eff. You. See. Kay. Ashley and I kept our appointment at 11:00 and filled out applications with the fleeting hope that the person in front of us for the place would somehow fail to pass the application process or maybe die. We left the office feeling defeated, but hiked up our trousers, straightened our respective hats, and resumed the search in short order.

After checking out a few more lackluster places, the gentleman who showed us FailHouse the day before informed me that he had one other place that was comparable to the place we'd seen the day before. That's when everything stopped going to hell! The new place was great. A half a step from the green line, two big bedrooms, high-assed ceilings, two bathrooms, and a giant living room/kitchen area. Ashley and I exchanged stunned glances, looked around a bit more, and decided then and there to take the place.

With our hopes rising back up through the cloud cover of the day, the only thing that stood in our way was the singing of the lease. I won't go into too much detail, but I think I would definitely classify the lease signing as An Ordeal. My questionable employment status was cancelled out by my perfect credit and, after probably the single longest look of hesitation I've seen in all my twenty-eight years, the fellow at the leasing office said he'd let us have the place. A traipse to my bank in Manhattan for a cashier's cheque and a flick of the pen was all it took to seal the deal. Ashley celebrated by going back to work and I celebrated by eating food for the first time in more than twenty-four hours.

So the weekend ended on a high note. I got dinner with my chum Jimmy that night, where we hit on the ladies and, more importantly, discussed computer animation and visual effects. Saturday was an all-day Gaming Fiasco with Rym and Scott, et al., and Sunday was a leisurely day of Brooklyn wanderings and the plane ride home. The trip was fraught with other small adventures too numerous too mention, except for the one that stands out the most.

I was setting up flat-viewing appointments Thursday morning and called up a gentleman about his place. Below is transcribed our phone exchange:

Me: "Hi! I hear you're showing a place at [street name] and [street name]!"

The Gentleman in Question: "...." "What is this, an interrogation?! WHO IS THIS."

Me: "Er...I saw...that you're showing an apartment?...On Craigslist?"

The Gentleman in Question: "Oh! Well why didn't you say that to begin with? Jesus!"

So it looks like the adventure has already started. I saw a man pee in a subway station, I saw a rat in the street, another in the road, and I saw a crazy guy yelling the fuck word in the park over and over. I think I'm going to love this place.

"The beginning of the adventure of finding yourself is to lose your way." - Joseph Campbell

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