My first move to Minnesota was simply using gps to find an address that I knew nothing about that would then be my new home. The move to New York was planned out by having my friend Trent scope out the apartment for approval before we signed a lease. ...I then used gps to find an address that I knew nothing about that would then be my new home.
We pulled up in our tiny, spilled rotten milkshake smelling car on a tiny narrow crowded street pulling a Uhaul, two restless dogs, 2 bamboo plans, a mini palm, a full palm tree, a betta in a juice bottle, and almost impossibly wedged ourselves in. The stairs up to the apartment were four floors up and incredibly narrow. We unlocked the door to what would be our home for the next year, and as the door swung open my first immediate thought was "Where is the rest of it?" It was smaller than I had even imagined. As soon as I walked in the door, I was practically in half of the apartment.
After hours upon hours of unloading the truck up four flights of stairs that would result in a burning and achy body that would be felt for days afterwards - we returned the trailer and came "home." I dug out my queen air mattress, and began to inflate it in my room. While it slowly began to expand, I realized that any available space in my room was slowly disappearing. The only thought I could have was, "Oh no, I live in a closet!"
Realizing it was 11 at night, and the idea of venturing out in the dark in a brand new place was the last thing we wanted to do, we ended up ordering a pizza from Dominos. (This isn't Utah anymore....everything doesn't shut down at 9.) When the ridiculously priced $30 SINGLE TOPPING pizza arrived looking like an old shoe,it could only mean a perfect end to the night.
The next morning, all I wanted was a shower. In my mind, I could only feel like this would be a pleasant experience. I wasn't expecting the ice cold water stabbing daggers into my heart. There was no hot water at ALL. We had called earlier during the drive to have the gas turned on before our move, only to realize that they wouldn't have it on without the paperwork.
Without internet or a printer, we spent our first day hunting down a shady little internet cafe where we spent twenty dollars to fax our info to the utilities companies for electric and gas. We made the call after our papers were in only to find out they would make an appointment to turn our gas in roughly 14 days. I wanted to die. Luckily, after almost a week of jumping in for seconds at a time under a freezing jet of water for a "shower" they came to turn on our meter. There was much rejoicing.
Of course, with any move, there's the "Ohmygaaah, I made the biggest mistake of my life..." moment. It happened the first night in Minneapolis, and I could only anticipate the New York one to whop me straight in the face. I was doing relatively well until a friend of my roomate's stopped by to take her out one night. Before he left, he stayed for a while where the conversation headed from pleasantries into how there were numerous ways of getting robbed and/or dying here. This was less than comforting.
After they had left, I sulked into my closet room to go to bed, with both dogs following behind. While barking and freaking out at every possible noise was annoying at first, it began to become a comfort to let everyone on the outside of the door know that if they were to force themselves in they may get bit, or at the very least peed on.
Each time I began to drift off and finally sleep, Remington or Scottie would hear something, leap off the bed and spaz out at the door. My already elevated air mattress was on a slated bed frame, so it was quite a leap for them to each get back up. After probably about the fourth or fifth freak out session, only Remington made it back onto the bed. There was a momentary pause, and in the darkness I felt Scottie botch his attempt of jumping back up, and crash to the ground.
As if in slow motion, I heard Scottie's paws leave the floor. There was then a soft thud as he hit the side of the mattress and bounce off in an awkward puppy somersault. It was more humorous than sad in that moment until there was a soft hiss that took only a second to register. As the hissing continued, I began to sink down while the inflatable mattress folded in around me. Scottie had popped the air mattress.
It's hard to tell if deep down I knew this would be funny later, or if I would just live in denial of how ridiculous all these events were stacking up. The irrational part of me became unproductively impulsive, and I tore through boxes to find something that would repair the situation. I found a leather repair kit I had saved, tore open the package, and slabbed black goo across the puncture. "Give me anything! Peanut butter, Scotch tape...ANYTHING to fill this hole and keep the precious air inside!!!'
....I made a mess. In all honesty, no idea what I was thinking. It was more the heat of the moment really.
I spent one of my first few nights on the hardwood floor. Welcome to New York.
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