I guess the ‘package’ of invasive information necessary to even be considered to live in a co-op apartment in NYC should have clued me to the lurking dangers...
And then there was the mandatory interview…
The small torture chamber was rank with the sulfuric odor of perverted power that co-op boards enjoy.
A police murder interrogation could not have been more brutal. True, I wasn’t chained to a chair and I don’t think that there was a two-way mirror…
My tormentors seated me in the perfect ping-ping position, lobbing questions with the speed of torment (Oops! I meant tournament) players.
“Who are your friends? Do you listen to music? Has your dog attended training?”
I mean give me a break! What did they expect me to say?
“I have wild orgies, listen to ear shattering Metal and Hip-Hop, and about my dog, he might look like a fluffy poodle, but it’s really a disguise. Underneath all that fluff lurks a vicious 200 pound Rottweiler.”
It takes a certain kind of person to ignore all the warning signs and lunge brazenly into the future? New Yorkers are known for being brave… Determined? Try pig-headed!
What do ya think? Have any city stories to share?
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We know there is no other game in town. What to do> scream....must be a better answer. stay calm.
ReplyDeleteThe NYC apartment story that rushed to mind as I read your blog is about my first apartment in the city, a small, 5th floor walk up on the Upper East Side. It was an OK place, and had a superintendent who was nearly invisible. Luckily, there was nothing terribly wrong with the place, so, his invisibility was not a problem. Then, one night, as I was fast asleep, I was awakened to the sound of something tearing. As the sound grew, my alarm grew. What could it be? It began to sound less like tearing, and more like an old wooden ship being ripped apart by the waves of a great storm. Finally, the source of the sound became clear, as I watched in the dim light a large portion of my plaster ceiling crash to the floor. Well, the next day, after some searching, I was able to make the superintendent appear, and explained to him what had happened. He shrugged his shoulders and said, "water damage" and turned and left! Now, to his credit, the ceiling was fixed the next day, but I did move out a month later!
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