Kelly moved from east Harlem to Inwood today so I’ve now got a good neighbor one street south. We’ve already considered stringing tin cans across the way so we can communicate treehouse style, and we may have to if the reception on the Cingular cellphones of Vincent and I are any indicator; her new apartment was a no-bar dead zone for us save the small bathroom and at one point, Vincent and I were both in there on our phones, voices echoing off the tile. It would have made for an amusing photo had anyone else been able to cram in there.
I am jealous of Kelly’s apartment, which costs a bit more than mine but is laid out in a much more modular and appealing fashion, with a small antechamber off the front door, a separate kitchen, and a clearly defined living room. Then again, I imagine every new apartment appears spacious and rich with possibility when there’s nothing in it but a friendly cat named Paddington and some guys on their phones in the bathroom.
The first carload of stuff to arrive was mostly boxes and bags—a lot of books—that Vincent and I shuttled upstairs to the Inwood apartment while Katie and Megan drove back to Harlem to pick up the next load. As soon as I saw Vincent’s badass black fingerless movin’ gloves, I knew he meant business, and we made sure and short work of shuttling the stuff up to the third floor. I’d thought we could cool down by breaking out the heavy oscillating fan I’d carried up but was surprised to find the box packed full of CDs. Instead we bought some Negra Modelo from a corner bodega and sat on the stoop to drink and chat while we waited for the ladies.
On the second trip, the car arrived with Kelly’s mattress lashed to the roof. The twine had been looped through the door frames to secure the mattress but because the scissors had been misplaced in the car, the ladies were unable to open the doors. They were not tremendously happy to see us on the stoop drinking beer as they sat trapped, exasperated and double-parked. We freed the doors eventually by picking at the knots by hand and used a comb to worry at the twine, attracting a small clot of neighborhood children who wondered aloud what we were up to.
The third trip brought the boxspring and miscellany and by then we were all tired and hungry. After a comically excruciating conversation regarding toppings, we ordered two pizzas from Pizza Nova and scarfed them down in record time. Later we sat out on the stoop with our beers and Twizzlers and chatted until late. I hadn’t realized how refreshing it would be to merely stride around the corner of a block to arrive home instead of taking a 30- to 40-minute subway ride as I normally do when I hang out with friends.
