Monday, October 03, 2005
NEW YORK
It was quite a weekend of apartment hunting. Flew into the Big Apple on Saturday morning, checked into a hotel, and hit the ground running with the apartment search. I was determined not to pay a broker’s fee – which in New York averages 15% of the total annual rent – so I had some work to do. (That fee is nearly two months rent. . four thousand dollars just to be shown an apartment. Fuck that.)
In preparation, I did a lot of internet searching and making phone calls directly to buildings’ owners, but also called brokers as well (just in case I couldn’t find anything.) To my surprise I was able to find some nice apartments. But, as nice apartments go, I was competing with someone else to get it, of course. Fortunately, I was able to turn on the charm, have all my ducks in a row for the application (W2 forms, bank statements, letters of employment, etc.) and get my application in. I must wait and see. . . but didn’t want to put all my eggs in one basket.
Later that day I went around town with a broker; this hard core bitch who showed me, perhaps, the most depressing places in Greenwich Village AND more expensive then my Upper East Side finds. For God’s sake, I don’t need to live in the Village that bad.
My final destination for the day was an upscale building at, of all places, Wall Street – right around the corner from the New York Stock Exchange. They had a cute studio available next month. Impressed with lobby, doorman, gym, game room and outdoor patio, I decided to put an application there as well..
So it was time to reward myself with some R&R and watched the Fantastic Four, grabbed something to eat, and met Rob out for some drinks later that night.
Sunday I awoke to another broker appointment on the Upper East Side. He was really cool, actually, and showed me some nice apartments, but none nicer than the ones I’d put an application on, and none worth paying that fee for. Nice try.
Sick of walking, I went back home to relax. I got a call that the apartment I wanted and put an application on in the Upper East Side went through and they wanted me to come in and sign the lease. So this morning I went to the bank, got the check, and signed the lease. Now all I have to do is have the landlord sign, and I’m in there like swimwear.
Now all I have to do is move.
- - - -
So the gravity of this move is apparent. I couldn’t be happier to move back to New York. But after a big reunion with old friends in Chicago and making a great new friend, Anthony, this change is bittersweet.
But who am I? Well, I have to say, though I grew up in Chicago, my adult life was spent in New York – in a sense, I grew up there and the taste for the things I like to do now were developed there. And I have good friends there, too. Dear God, I endured some of the best of worst times of my life there. I’m a New Yorker. I guess it took moving to Chicago to realize it.
It was quite a weekend of apartment hunting. Flew into the Big Apple on Saturday morning, checked into a hotel, and hit the ground running with the apartment search. I was determined not to pay a broker’s fee – which in New York averages 15% of the total annual rent – so I had some work to do. (That fee is nearly two months rent. . four thousand dollars just to be shown an apartment. Fuck that.)
In preparation, I did a lot of internet searching and making phone calls directly to buildings’ owners, but also called brokers as well (just in case I couldn’t find anything.) To my surprise I was able to find some nice apartments. But, as nice apartments go, I was competing with someone else to get it, of course. Fortunately, I was able to turn on the charm, have all my ducks in a row for the application (W2 forms, bank statements, letters of employment, etc.) and get my application in. I must wait and see. . . but didn’t want to put all my eggs in one basket.
Later that day I went around town with a broker; this hard core bitch who showed me, perhaps, the most depressing places in Greenwich Village AND more expensive then my Upper East Side finds. For God’s sake, I don’t need to live in the Village that bad.
My final destination for the day was an upscale building at, of all places, Wall Street – right around the corner from the New York Stock Exchange. They had a cute studio available next month. Impressed with lobby, doorman, gym, game room and outdoor patio, I decided to put an application there as well..
So it was time to reward myself with some R&R and watched the Fantastic Four, grabbed something to eat, and met Rob out for some drinks later that night.
Sunday I awoke to another broker appointment on the Upper East Side. He was really cool, actually, and showed me some nice apartments, but none nicer than the ones I’d put an application on, and none worth paying that fee for. Nice try.
Sick of walking, I went back home to relax. I got a call that the apartment I wanted and put an application on in the Upper East Side went through and they wanted me to come in and sign the lease. So this morning I went to the bank, got the check, and signed the lease. Now all I have to do is have the landlord sign, and I’m in there like swimwear.
Now all I have to do is move.
- - - -
So the gravity of this move is apparent. I couldn’t be happier to move back to New York. But after a big reunion with old friends in Chicago and making a great new friend, Anthony, this change is bittersweet.
But who am I? Well, I have to say, though I grew up in Chicago, my adult life was spent in New York – in a sense, I grew up there and the taste for the things I like to do now were developed there. And I have good friends there, too. Dear God, I endured some of the best of worst times of my life there. I’m a New Yorker. I guess it took moving to Chicago to realize it.
# posted by otas : 11:03 AM
