Making the arrangements to move in New York City is I am sure like most moving situations in other cities; however, I've never hired a professional mover. In towns such as Charleston or Atlanta, everyone has an SUV and is willing to lend a hand in exchange for beers, food and of course my excellent company.
Before the big move, I scoured Craigslist for several weeks. I was just so excited about having a place of my own that I wanted it fully furnished with wonderfully shabby-chic, gently used, perfectly AJ-esque ecclectic style furniture and fixins. But my overeagness had me sending out e-mails to people who were moving, wanted their stuff out, and my continuous response was always, "oh but could you just hold onto it until August 1st??" Most of the recepients of these e-mails were less than excited and some just didn't respond; however, there was one gentleman who was giving away this AMAZING green couch, for free! In his Craigslist ad, he wrote a beautiful sonnet about the green couch in question. I respond with zeal and fervor and perhaps a bit of poetry myself and the guy seemed impressed. He wanted it out immediately but refused to give to anyone who he didn't feel would give the couch a good home. I know that sounds really weird, right? I mean...it's a couch. But I am not one to turn my nose up at a free couch so I let him know of my unwavering desire for the beloved green couch and should he not find a suitable owner, I would love to take it off his hands at the beginning of the month. I searched for other couches, all the while, hoping to get an e-mail from the Green Couch Guy.
Lo-and-behold, the green couch owner did not find a suitable person to take the couch so he e-mailed me towards the end of the month. At this point, I was so in love with the idea of anything free that I decided to hire a mover to get this couch and a dresser I'd found on Craigslist for pretty cheap. August 1st was a Monday and both of the respective owners wanted their items picked up on Friday. I figured my room was big enough (in my old apartment) to house an extra couch and dresser for two days. So I set about to find a mover. Movers on Craiglist vary from highly professional with packing materials and a variety of different vans sizes to the more cryptic messages from movers saying, "we will move your stuff." So I decided to go for the cheapest one I could find. This one "guy" listed that I could have two guys for $50/hr. Well, that just seemed dandy to me. I said after my fifth move into the sublet that I was not going to do anymore moving for a long time. The experience of moving that many times with my now (as of his last check-up) 16 pound cat took it out of me and the thought of doing even the slightest bit of heavy lifting left me feeling panicked and tired. I know that sounds bratty; but, whatever. I dug around in the snow looking for keys, drove around with crazy cab drivers, lived with a half asian ammature porn participant and did it all within my first month of moving to New York. If I want to hire a damn mover and not lift a finger, well, in my mind, that is my right. Ok, so yeah, a little venting never hurt anyone. Anyways, back to the story at hand. Everytime I texted this mover I'd found, as one does in this technologically advanced day and age, "he" signed it, "Cool Gabe." Or even, "yeah Gabe." So I'm thinking to myself, as is Sarah, that this Gabe character is a bit kooky but we say to ourselves, "okay, why not, let's go with this guy."
So Friday arrives, I've set up the pick up times for 7 p.m. and 7:45 thinking this won't take too long. There will be two guys, they grab a dresser and a couch and voila. Furniture. So Sarah and I, being you know, the bright characters that we are, go to a bar in Greenpoint near the first house in order to have some chicken wings (damn good might I add) and a beer or two. I mean we're going to have to ride around in a van with two strange men for about two hours, it's probably best we have a buzz on, right? *Reading that back to myself now, it does not sound like a good idea at all. It sounds like the pre-story of a Lifetime movie about two drunk girls getting abducted and taken into white slavery. But actually, in this story, we are not abducted or anything to that effect...
We walk to the apartment where we are supposed to pick up the dresser. We are waiting for "Cool Gabe" on the stoop of some guys apartment. While we are waiting, it starts to rain. Then it starts to pour. Then a van starts circling the block with what looks like a kind of handsome gentleman from afar (I really should get my eyes checked). Eventually, I call Gabe and tell him that he's passed the house and to park the damn van as we are getting soaked. So he complies. Then "Yeah Gabe" steps out of the van.
"Gabe" is probably about 5'10 and maybe let's say...130 pounds? Give or take? Maybe? In addition, "Gabe" is alone. The second guy is not there to help with the move. Thirdly, it has now commenced to monsoon. And lastly, Gabe, in my opinion, is undoubtedly, a post-op transexual. *Discliaimer: I have NO ISSUE with transexuals, transgender, look let's just say I am more than LGBTQ friendly. However, this guy weight a little more than Sarah and I do. I mean, how the toot are you going to move my dresser and/or couch on your own. Let me state again, I refuse to help, but I mean, I guess if it came down to it, I would've helped because we were there and it was you know...already arranged.
Before having the entire party enter the apartment of the dresser owner, I decided to check it out for myself. I loved the dresser, but decided that we really shouldn't move it in the rain. It was getting really bad and I just figured someone (me) was going to slip and die and kill Gabe under my weight. But during this time, Sarah and Gabe got to chatting. They got real close, I guess some might say. She might say otherwise. But this is my blog and I am going to say they were besties by the time I'd made my decision to get the dresser on Monday.
I told the guy with the dresser, I'd be back Monday. He said he'd already have moved but his roommate's girlfriend was there and she was SUPER nice. She gave me her number and said she'd hold onto the dresser until Monday. Yay! A break for Sarah and I. So we get in the van with Gabe. Ah, this is one of the better experiences of my life. Really. Because Sarah had just moved and had no idea how to get around the Williamsburg/Greenpoint area, I sat in front, while Sarah literally flew around the back of the van at every twist and turn. I told the green couch guy we were going to come over but I didn't want it to get ruined. I wish now that I had saved the series of texts between this guy and I. They really were hilarious, until they weren't and then they just got kind of hostile, hence their deletion. So ok, Sarah is getting thrown around in the back of a van. There's a hole right over the back left tire. Sarah's just chilling, sitting next to the hole, having her life flash before eyes, you know that old chestnut. During this time, I am trying to stealthily get pictures of Sarah as proof while listening to Gabe tell us about his girlfriend, I mean ex-girlfriend, sorry. Things we learned during the ride:
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| Sarah, notice gaping hole to left. |
Gabe is from Seattle or Portland, not quite sure.
Gabe has a girlfriend or ex-girlfriend, not quite sure.
Gabe lives with his girlfriend or ex-girfriend who rides a bike.
Gabe's girlfriend or ex-girlfriend was going to try to kill herself but instead Gabe gave her a carton of cigarettes and some mushrooms and I guess it works because she was still alive at that point in time.
And finally we learn that Gabe doesn't really know the neighborhood too well because he couldn't get us to the other house. When texting the Green Couch Guy, he more or less scoldled me on choosing such a poor mover. Gabe said he couldn't get over to Green Couch Guy's apartment because there was, and this is true, substantial flooding and wasn't sure if his "ride" could really take it. So there's that. So we decide to head back to my apartment, buy some beer and sweat (because it was hot as sin at this time in July). Gabe took possibly the longest route to get there, then indicates to us that he and his gf/ex-gf live just over there! Ah! And we could've been so close to each other! Gabe dropped us off on the corner and I guess we gave him like $10 for the ride? Essentially, Gabe was our taxi driver for a brief period of time. Our cruise director in life truly. At least for an hour or so.
Ok so come Sunday afternoon, the day before our big move, the moment we've all been waiting for, I text Gabe to just verify that he and his crew (one other guy I hope!) will come to my place the next day. Gabe texts back saying, "No, the van isn't working." (I assume flood damage to his ride). Glad, I checked Gabe, thanks a lot for letting me know. So I had to find another mover in the sea of seedy Craigslist postings. I found one. His name is Stan. Stan seemed pretty responsible on the phone. We agreed on a time. The guys were going to move all my stuff in my current apartment into the new one, then I would hop in the van with them, go to both the dresser and the couch locations and get those pieces too.
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| Bed, notice giant cat in dead center. |
Well...Stan and his accomplice Jack were about 45 minutes late which is fine, I guess. They got all my stuff packed and unpacked in the new place within an hour. Super awesome. We get the dresser. No problem. The guys are funny and entertaining. They bickered like an old married couple. Stan was clearly of some of eastern european guy with ample tufts of back hair sticking out from his shirt. I really loved them. Jack and Stan...not Stan's back hair tufts. Anyways, get to the couch place. The couch is SO comfortable I am BEYOND STOKED. I cannot wait. Well..Jack and Stan tried for AN HOUR (which is not free by the way) to get this couch up our narrow stairway. It wasn't going to happen. They even sawed off part of our banister (which they did not put back). So eventually they had to give up. I took the cushions (which are now being used as my headboard) and we had to leave the couch on the street. It was so very sad. And the Green Couch Guy, you know, he'd put so much faith in me and everything. After Jack and Stan left, Sarah and I went to get more chicken wings (which now that I think about it was the second time in like 3 days). During this time, I texted Green Couch Guy to let him know. He was actually really really pissed. And I actually felt really really guilty. Sarah was not quite so sympathetic. But there was nothing more I could do. I wasn't going to pay Jack and Stan for another hour just to get that couch redelievered into a space in which it did not fit?! Ah, it was really so sad. The next morning I was leaving for work and I saw the trash guys coming to get the couch. I said to them, "you don't have to take it just yet?!" The "sanitation workers" said, "oh yeah, we really do." And that was that. The end of the green couch. At least I got a headboard out of it I suppose. We've since gotten a couch and used Stan to retrieve it for us. Late per usual, he did not have Jack with him this time but some other little fellow. We didn't exchange names. It was very brief. Anyways, The apartment is just wonderful, fly free, comfortable and best of all, MINE!
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