With utmost respect for karma/the universe/the gods I have been verycareful up to this point to talk of how smoothly our entire move has
been, and now that I'm safely sitting in my new office (yes our place
features an "extra" room of sorts) on some neighbor's WiFi
connection, drinking the best iced coffee I've ever had (from around
the corner), I can revel in our genius of planning and execution, and
safely say that the most difficult part of this process has been the
setting up of our place. It was a such a great feeling back in SF to
get rid of all our furniture and start fresh, but upon move-in we
realized that all the stuff that we used to keep in that furniture had
nowhere to go; Kam has like 313 tank tops alone, and so our first
mission was to get a dresser (or two), and the attraction of flat
boxes and low prices at Ikea was more than we could resist, so we
decided to schlep through a combination of subway and bus to
Elizabeth, New Jersey. After all, it was only 19 minutes away
according to google driving directions, which though I've found to be
based on the time it would take provided that you are basically the
last human being on earth, I chose to ignore. After all, we weren't
responsible for driving ourselves, and there was no chance of getting
lost or stuck in traffic.
Off we went. Took the L to Union Square and transferred to the port
authority to grab the bus to the store. Got there and discovered that
there's a free shuttle on weekends, but hell, we don't wanna be out
there when everyone else is; we'd been to Ikea Emeryville on a
saturday afternoon. We know better; coughed up the 19 for two round
trip tickets, after all, it was gonna have to be our way back as well,
right?
The thing about the Ikea showroom is that everything looks SO much
better in person and there's so much more of it. The 6 foot dark
stained bookshelf we couldn't find for less than 250 bucks was here
for 150, previously unbeknownst to us. My gawd, there was the
Bessler-style metal cabinetry I've always been so fond of, for a third
of the cost of the real thing! And a kitchen cart! (one can always use
more counter space), and behold the great deals on bathmats and shag
rugs; it was too much to take. Besides, we could only carry home one
box each, and we had to have those dressers, first and foremost. After
wandering through such well-conceived ideas as the fully furnished 250
square foot studio and being amazed by what you could do with all this
innovative Ikea furniture, we found our dressers in the bedroom
department. Solid, simple in design, cappuccino in color, perfect.
Doesn't even look Ikea; no one would ever have to know. Took note of
the aisle and bin number and headed downstairs only to discover, which
again should not have been a surprise, that these boxes, flat as they
are, each weighed in at around ONE HUNDRED POUNDS. Visions of Kam and
I navigating New York's bus and subway system during rush hour with
these things instantly gave me cold sweats; transfers, turn stiles,
stairs, mobs of angry people, all led to horrific thoughts of
fighting, cussing, and abandonment. Kam would have no more of it and
just leave me right there on the spot. And somewhere Jules, my van now
in the hands of new owners, was laughing at our predicament, still
hurting from the fact that I parted with him in San Francisco. This
was not gonna work, we needed a new plan, and I needed a few of those
Ikea hot dogs (only 50 cents!), which it would turn out are not to be
found in the food court, but only after you pay, downstairs, on your
way out. We had to settle for a $4 turkey "wrap", which is quite
possibly the biggest food scam ever as it's not even warm, and not
even close to being as gourmet as it sounds. But it was the safest bet
next to the plate of Swedish meatballs which I also found in frozen
form in huge bags all over the rest of the store.
Anyway, our plan became to get every piece of furniture and accessory
we desired while I would attempt to solicit a ride back to Brooklyn
out by the loading zone. Surely someone would realize the monetary
potential of hanging out with their truck/van by the exit of the store
and await those of us who didn't plan well enough ahead. On my second
trip out there (just pass the hot dogs) I noticed a kid in dark
glasses and ballcap, just kind of sitting on the bench of his minivan.
He had the side door open and was staring our over the lot, looking
around and occasionally in my direction. After a third glance he stood
and opened the trunk lid and front doors as if to invite business.
This is it, I thought. This kid is looking for business. Given the
fact that Ikea runs an Enterprise van rental out of its parking lot, I
assumed they would look down on soliciting random people for rides, so
I approached this kid with caution. I felt like I was trying for a
drug deal on haight street or something, and probably ended up looking
more guilty than I needed to. I sidled up to the van.
"Hey, man, can I ask ya something?"
"Uh, sure... I guess."
"You by any chance offering rides in this thing?"
"What?"
"I'm looking to go to Brooklyn with significant cargo and no transport."
"Uhh, dude? I'm just waiting for my mom."
An "Oh sorry, man" or something and I was on my way back to the store.
Called Enterprise from a courtesy phone and would have had to drive
the empty truck back to the store, and what with being barred from the
Holland tunnel and rush hour, I began to casually carry on with Kam
about needing a ride in the hope that some shopper near us would over
hear and offer services, but to no avail.
Now the day before actual move-in, we stopped by Penske to see about
getting a truck for the next day to get between storage and apartment
and discovered it was gonna cost 75 bucks plus 29 cents a mile to make
the move, not to mention the heat index was at like 100 degrees. We
knew we could do better and sure enough found two guys and a 16 foot
truck on Craigslist for 65 bucks an hour to move us in. It was damn
genius. They did all the work, and even removed a door and the feet of
the couch to squeeze that puppy through to our living room. (the couch
FITS! (barely) to all those who doubted...we have a nice looooong
space.) Anyway, these guys were great. Sebastian is his name, Mexican,
been in Bklyn for a number of years, started this business with a van
3 years ago, and with help from craigslist and word of mouth had just
recently purchased the box truck, but has to pay 6 grand a year for
insurance. Jeezus. He told us to call again if need be, so after
negotiating another job he was on, said he'd be on the way within an
hour, and all we would need to do was give him directions. Now you'd
think that someone that works at Ikea would know how to get there, and
given the relative simplicity of the bus route, we thought it would be
no problem, but as per the day, we were mistaken. Got sent to customer
service by the first couple of employees we asked, and as we passed a
manager-type on the way asked him, and not only did he not know but he
didn't understand why we were going to get a number and stand in line
only to find out that they might not know, either. So he, in a state
of mild agitation even though we asked for no such favor, cuts right
up the front of the customer service line (it's Ikea, of course it's
gonna be long) and asks for us. Sure enough, the kid behind the
counter who looks he had just lost his job at Subway just kinda
shrugs, and Manager guy shoots us a look of told-ya-so and limps off
to do whatever. We're just marooned there, with no idea of where we
are and no one who knows where they are and this guy supposedly on his
way to get us. Our savior came in the form of this tough looking new
york chick (not to be sexist; she'd say the same) who spoke with that
great Bronx/etc accent you like to hear on TV and stuff, but so thick
and with such speed that I could barely make out what she was saying.
So here I am scratching out these directions phonetically, because
I've never heard of these streets and bridges, and then calling this
guy who I have a tough time understanding due especially to my
cell-phone reception over by the hot dogs, and just praying that this
is gonna all work out, and without costing us an arm and a leg. Kam
wants to know if he's charging us from the point he leaves or the
point where he reaches us, and i say i don't know and that he'll be
here soon anyway.
So we get in line and rejoice at the fact that we got as much as we
did for as little as we did, and head over to the pick-up window to
get the items that aren't self-serve, only to find that it might take
up to 20 minutes to get said items, and Sebastian has supposedly been
on his way for some time already. Playing beat-the-clock we rush out
to the loading lot, ready to jet home and move on with our day.
But no. That would not happen so easily. After about an hour since the
exchange of directions, we decide to call Sebastian, not wanting to
annoy him or anything. He informs us that the guy he sent to pick us
up (?) is a couple of exits away and will be right there. Cool. I take
notice of the family next to us, so mid-west in general looks,
michigan plates and all, who are loading up an SUV chock-full of stuff
for their daughter, who is either getting stuff for college or getting
stuff for her first apartment. She's directing dad on where to put
things in between blowing bubbles and intermittent phone
conversations, with long blonde hair and that
ultra-casual-through-much-fuss
real cutie, it would seem, until it becomes known that in fact her
mother DOESN'T know where her sunglasses and that she was not holding
them for her throughout their day in the store. Mom's turning her
purse inside-out as if for proof and this girl, I swear to gawd,
begins to throw a fucking FIT, right there in front of everyone, out
of disbelief of how her mom could possibly lose her 150 dollar
sunglasses. Girl goes back inside to search and I recollect a moment a
half-hour earlier where a group of three kids were sitting over by the
hot dog place and all giggling at each other as they were passing
around and trying on the absolute gaudiest pair of giant sunglasses I
had ever seen. Hmmm. But I'm not about to enter into this one.
Meanwhile there's no sign of our guy yet, and we start to worrry that
traffic is of or beyond rush hour SF proportions, and may be holding
him back. To our left comes a couple of women, mother and adult-age
daughter, who discover that the back seat of the daughter's Cadillac
does not fold down, thus making it impossible for them to fit the
three flat lengthy boxes in her car. They look exasperated, and talk
begins to surface of how she may have to return the items and leave
with only the chairs to the dining set, etc. She tries to reach
friends, but no luck. College girl gets back on our right all
puffy-eyed and red-faced and slumps into the car. Dad closes the trunk
and mouths to Mom that kiddo "is not happy". They get in and the
argument obviously picks up again as the vehicle does not move from
it's place. The driver side door finally opens to reveal mom turned
towards the backseat, one hand on heart, the other pointing
ferociously in daughter's direction, while dad gets out rolling his
eyes and taking a seat on the curb. The feuding women both emerge and
march together back into the store.
We've now been waiting at the dock for over an hour and turn to the
women at our left and ask where they're heading. Manhattan bound, but
it turns out that daughter Lauren is moving into our neighborhood that
next week and we offer to take the three large pieces for her on the
one condition that this guy may never show up. As if by fate he calls
at that moment and says he is indeed right near the exit. We'll split
the cost, and make new friends while at it. Another half hour passes.
I tell Kam I would appreciate her powers of bitchiness to call
Sebastian and find out just what the hell is going on. Meanwhile I
call enterprise from the courtesy phone by the hot dogs only to find
that they're closed for the day. Sebastian now admits that friend may
be lost and will come out here himself if need be. It's been two
hours. College girl and mom appear out of the store with no glasses
but a gigantic floor mirror that girl tells dad she just had to have
after seeing at her friend's place in LA. Dad wonders how they're
gonna get it home, and I, good natured midwesterner that I am, offer
to help him secure it to the roof of their truck. Girl smiles for the
first time all afternoon apparently, and dad and I go to work.
Michigan comes up of course, and I find out that he's from Bklyn
originally but now living in Ann Arbor; I of course, went to school
there (U of M), and daughter just graduated from there. Everyone's
excited with conversation. Girls asks what I studied (architecture,
music) and dad asks what I'm doing now (musician) He doesn't quite get
it, though interested, and I take it no further ;)
Finally after two hours waiting outside the store, driver calls us and
would you believe it shows up, in the kind of van I fear most; Short,
noisy, the kind where I can see the road through the floor.
Nonetheless, he's here, and not charging us for the first two hours of
his trip, which involved more getting terribly lost than traffic. We
load, exchange numbers with Lauren (our new cool friend) and I even go
hand a couple of my cards out to college family, who are still
exchanging parting glances and quips.
We board, are informed of the need to stop for gas (poor guy felt
pretty about being late and didn't even wanna stop for gas even though
he was dangerously low as it turned out), and drive through the rain
and traffic back towards bklyn. College family hadn't even left the
parking lot when drove off. We got back home and unloaded some nine
hours after we left. I don't know when the day will come that I own a
car again, but I'm sure gonna appreciate the hell out of it.
So ultimately, now that the move is done, we're in our place and quite
ready for company after four non-stop days of unpacking and such, the
next task before me which is sure to garner a story or two is my
search for work. I've barely begun to scratch the surface, but it's
been fun responding to posts for "graphic designers with rediculous
talent" with lines like "I dunno about that but I have ridiculous
spelling skills"
Kam and I are off to see The Walkmen tonite at the warsaw with Jason.
Hope all is well; start planning your trips!
we miss you,
t.
