I Now Live in Manhattan Part 1 - The Move

Madness.

My commute into work this morning was 25 mintues. Only 25 minutes! I took my sweet time. Looked around. Looked futilely for a potential spot at which to buy groceries.

I shall divide this post into three segments:

1. The Move
2. The Unpacking
3. The Aftermath

1. The Move

At 7:45 am on Saturday, D arrived, focused, to take the bed apart. I began dragging things to the freight elevator. At 7:55, the movers I'd hired via Craigslist arrived. They proceeded to get lost in the building, as everyone does, and then appeared, ready for action. These men were the pinnacle of efficiency. Each would carry, no joke, 5 huge boxes of books at once. They couldn't even see what they were doing, yet they carried these boxes without drama. At about 8:10 Bench Buddy arrived, and I was like "Dude, we're practically DONE."

Two trips down the freight elevator and the truck was loaded. I think this entire process took 45 minutes. The superintendant was actually friendly, and informed me that we'd have been kicked out of the building at the end of July anyway. They are going to turn it into condos - gut out the inside and build an atrium so that all of the units will have windows on two sides, build a pool, a gym on each floor. They are also going to build 4 more luxury highrises on the waterfront. I am glad I got out of there before I was (a) kicked out and (b) part of this horrid redevelopment.

These movers were INSANE. They packed my stuff in the truck in the most efficient, organized manner. They compacted it to what seemed to be 1/10 the original volume. I thought "Huh, apparently I don't have any stuff."

We piled into the truck - D and I in the front with Bench Buddy between us, and the two movers in the back. We hit traffic. Lots of it. D was a stress case and I was worried about the dudes in the back, but soon we were at the new apartment. There was the part where my key to the building no longer fit in the lock and where I had a panic and started buzzing all of the apartments in the hopes that someone would let us in. Luckily the super was home (she is the most adorable little old lady you have ever met) and rushed me new key to the recently fixed lock in which most people's keys no longer worked. Within 45 minutes the truck was empty.

Two hours total. Two hours total, with a traffic jam! These movers reaffirmed my faith in the human race. They could have dragged the move out since they were being paid by the hour, but they didn't. They did a wonderful, efficient, stress-free job. I think I carried maybe a total of 15 boxes. D and Bench Buddy were very helpful as well.

It was awesome.

I was convinced, given how smoothly it went, that something would happen with the piano. "It won't fit. They will drop it. They will put it in the truck and drive off with it. It's going to be a disaster." I've been having such a string of bad luck as of late, so I knew something would go wrong.

I went back to Williamsburg and ran an errand, picked up Last Bagel from The Bagel Store, and walked back to The Loft. As soon as I walked in, I got a call on my cell from the piano movers who were stuck in the stairwell because they'd taken the wrong elevator. Immaculate timing. Five minutes later the piano was outside the building after being transported in the passenger elevator.

They said "We didn't have lunch. We want a bagel." I rode with them in the truck - sitting between them on the truck bed which was made of plywood - and went back to the Bagel Store. We ate the bagels in the truck and then headed into the city. Our plan was foiled by "No Trucks on the Williamsburg Bridge," so we had to take the Manhattan Bridge.

Our plan was further foiled by a flea market that was most likely not the Hell's Kitchen Flea Market.

When we got to the new apartment, one of the mover's said "You want us to get it through this door?" when he saw the entrace to my apartment. I'd measured the doorway, but I hadn't accounted for the fact that the door doesn't open all the way due to a weird wall angle in the kitchen. I scrambled for the tape measure and said "Umm... I really think it will fit." He said "Well, I guess we'll bring it up and see what happens."

Of course. Of course!

I said "Hypothetically, let's just, like, pretend for a second. If it didn't fit, what would happen?"

They laughed.

These guys were great. They were hilarious and unique and told me all sorts of stories about piano moving and carried my piano up the stairs in about half an hour. There were grunts and screams and scrambling, but they got it in there and helped me decide where to put it. And also presented to me my next creative project, which I will begin as soon as things settle down in the new apartment.

And then it was finished, and D and I were left alone in the new apartment.