Why Don't I Elaborate on Why Moving Was So Miserable?
Yesterday I moved half my stuff from my apartment in Brooklyn (BELIEVE THE HYPE!) to my new dorm room in manhattan (more on the dorm later). It was miserable for numerous reasons, one of which I gave in a previous post (that I had to basically carry all of my stuff myself, boo hoo and whatnot, I'm a baby, etc). But there were many other reasons! I'll enumerate them now!
a) Being that my father, the only sucker I could commission to help me in my quest to relocate my life 3.62 miles, is approx. 72 years old and only stopped working 16-hour days at our endlessly punishing family business LESS THAN A YEAR AGO (How's that for a retirement age, TWU?), we got kind of a late start (he wanted to "sleep in"). Hence, arriving at my apartment with his van at...3 pm. Not exactly ideal, but I can forgive (he's my dad, I love him, etc).
b) My dad and I, in a shocking display of wanton stupidity, did not remove the seats from his minivan, which would have quadrupled our space and therefore probably enabled us to get all of my stuff in one trip. In a word: D'oh. Ultimately, this worked out because I was too exhausted to do any more than I did anyway.
c) When I'd loaded all that would fit into the minivan, my dad turned the key to start the car on our journey to manhattan, only to discover that the battery was dead. Despite a wild-eyed trek to a gas station and AN AUTO MECHANIC/BATTERY STORE two blocks away, we were unable to find help (imagine distant, faint tones, beginning to rise and ending in a crescendo of "IIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIII love New Yooooooooooooooooooooork...."), so we called Ford roadside assistance, which charged us $70 for a jump, basically. We waited an hour for them to show up, which is to be expected, but was still the sinfully ANNOYING icing on what was quickly becoming the bitter, bitter cake of moving day. But, I mean, what do you do with cake? In the end, you just gotta eat it.
d) 72-year old man + the defiance and sense of entitlement on the road that such an age typically comes with + bad eyesight + darkness + manhattan drivers = me almost being divided by a car going 40 mph (driven by a complete and utter deludinoid) in "The Passenger-Side Collision That Almost Was."
e) Because the entire unloading area near my new dorm is basically an illegal parking zone, my dad had to stay in the car so he could stand in the illegal zone while I unpacked everything. This sucked, but the trauma was reduced when I was able to procure a flatbed trolley for the task at hand halfway through my unloading. Awesome, right? SORT OF! Understand this: my new dorm is accessible via numerous stairways in addition to a long ramp for handicap access. This ramp is also the only way to get said flatbed trolley to the actual building. It's a pretty long ramp, too, and you can see the entire thing; i.e., there are no blind corners or turns or anything. So, ONE WOULD THINK THAT PEOPLE DESIRING TO LEAVE OR ENTER THE PREMISES WOULD SEE A GIRL PULLING A LARGE, HEAVY, DIFFICULT TO CONTROL FLATBED TROLLEY SLOWLY UP THE HANDICAPPED RAMP AND CHOOSE A DIFFERENT ROUTE, PERHAPS ONE OF THE MANY STAIRCASES NEARBY, TO USE RATHER THAN TRY TO SLINK BY THE CLEARLY STRUGGLING GIRL, WHICH WOULD MAKE HER TASK MORE DIFFICULT. I guess everyone entering and exiting that building yesterday had both hemispheres on cruise control or something, because I was getting no love on that point. So if I could just shout out a big thanks to all those people who ignored common sense on that ramp yesterday: seriously, you guys, awesome job.
And that was that. I would imagine that listening to complaining is just as exhilarating as actually complaining. I guess I deserve all this for being a twenny-5 year-old and moving into a dormitory, but I LIKE living in a dorm. There's no expectation of friendliness, no communal cleaning responsibility other than cleaning up after yourself, and in a Darwinian sense, I'm not equipped for basic living, so it all works out. Now all I have to do is pick up a bongo drum and a Bob Marley tapestry and I'll fit right in! See, I know what you college kids are into these days! Who am I kidding? I'm going to be the weird girl that walks around in a head-to-toe caftan and showercap complaining about all the noise. I can't wait!
a) Being that my father, the only sucker I could commission to help me in my quest to relocate my life 3.62 miles, is approx. 72 years old and only stopped working 16-hour days at our endlessly punishing family business LESS THAN A YEAR AGO (How's that for a retirement age, TWU?), we got kind of a late start (he wanted to "sleep in"). Hence, arriving at my apartment with his van at...3 pm. Not exactly ideal, but I can forgive (he's my dad, I love him, etc).
b) My dad and I, in a shocking display of wanton stupidity, did not remove the seats from his minivan, which would have quadrupled our space and therefore probably enabled us to get all of my stuff in one trip. In a word: D'oh. Ultimately, this worked out because I was too exhausted to do any more than I did anyway.
c) When I'd loaded all that would fit into the minivan, my dad turned the key to start the car on our journey to manhattan, only to discover that the battery was dead. Despite a wild-eyed trek to a gas station and AN AUTO MECHANIC/BATTERY STORE two blocks away, we were unable to find help (imagine distant, faint tones, beginning to rise and ending in a crescendo of "IIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIII love New Yooooooooooooooooooooork...."), so we called Ford roadside assistance, which charged us $70 for a jump, basically. We waited an hour for them to show up, which is to be expected, but was still the sinfully ANNOYING icing on what was quickly becoming the bitter, bitter cake of moving day. But, I mean, what do you do with cake? In the end, you just gotta eat it.
d) 72-year old man + the defiance and sense of entitlement on the road that such an age typically comes with + bad eyesight + darkness + manhattan drivers = me almost being divided by a car going 40 mph (driven by a complete and utter deludinoid) in "The Passenger-Side Collision That Almost Was."
e) Because the entire unloading area near my new dorm is basically an illegal parking zone, my dad had to stay in the car so he could stand in the illegal zone while I unpacked everything. This sucked, but the trauma was reduced when I was able to procure a flatbed trolley for the task at hand halfway through my unloading. Awesome, right? SORT OF! Understand this: my new dorm is accessible via numerous stairways in addition to a long ramp for handicap access. This ramp is also the only way to get said flatbed trolley to the actual building. It's a pretty long ramp, too, and you can see the entire thing; i.e., there are no blind corners or turns or anything. So, ONE WOULD THINK THAT PEOPLE DESIRING TO LEAVE OR ENTER THE PREMISES WOULD SEE A GIRL PULLING A LARGE, HEAVY, DIFFICULT TO CONTROL FLATBED TROLLEY SLOWLY UP THE HANDICAPPED RAMP AND CHOOSE A DIFFERENT ROUTE, PERHAPS ONE OF THE MANY STAIRCASES NEARBY, TO USE RATHER THAN TRY TO SLINK BY THE CLEARLY STRUGGLING GIRL, WHICH WOULD MAKE HER TASK MORE DIFFICULT. I guess everyone entering and exiting that building yesterday had both hemispheres on cruise control or something, because I was getting no love on that point. So if I could just shout out a big thanks to all those people who ignored common sense on that ramp yesterday: seriously, you guys, awesome job.
And that was that. I would imagine that listening to complaining is just as exhilarating as actually complaining. I guess I deserve all this for being a twenny-5 year-old and moving into a dormitory, but I LIKE living in a dorm. There's no expectation of friendliness, no communal cleaning responsibility other than cleaning up after yourself, and in a Darwinian sense, I'm not equipped for basic living, so it all works out. Now all I have to do is pick up a bongo drum and a Bob Marley tapestry and I'll fit right in! See, I know what you college kids are into these days! Who am I kidding? I'm going to be the weird girl that walks around in a head-to-toe caftan and showercap complaining about all the noise. I can't wait!
posted by K at 8:05 AM
0 Comments:
Post a Comment
<< Home