Chapter 2: The Clown Car of Apartments

For my second apartment-viewing adventure, I enlisted Liz to accompany me. This place was a fairly cheap studio out in Brooklyn. Over email the landlord had said that he could "probably let me get away with a cat" and since I wouldn't have to sign a year-lease, that seemed like an okay deal.

I met Liz at a station near her and we headed out for Brookyn*. The train ride was nice, we went over the Williamsburg Bridge and had a nice view of everything. We got off the train at the stop that is just a block or so from the place we were getting ready to see. The stop conveniently lets you out right next to a sweet Duncan Donuts/KFC combo. We walked the block and a half to meet the landlord outside. He was a youngish, pomo looking guy who didn't really move his arms when he walked.

He led us down a steep flight of extremely dark steps to the door of the studio. Mumbling something about how the space was nice and cozy, he swung open the door to show us the tiniest, tiny "apartment" I have ever seen. The entirety of the space was smaller than any room - bathrooms, aside - in which I have ever lived. There were 2 teeny windows covered with stained glass decals as if to prevent any natural light from getting in. Two of the walls were adorned with beautiful faux-stone sticky paper - you know, to give the place that much needed dungeon feeling it lacked.

In an attempt to make conversation that consisted of more than "Yeah, I guess a futon mattress might fit in that corner" I brought up the cat.

"Yeah, I could let you have a cat - I mean, tell me about the cat," he replied.

I looked at Liz hoping that she had some kind of great insight into the psyche of my cat that I did not before saying, "I mean - she's fat, and, well, a cat." That answer, as profound as it was, seemed enough for him. I mentioned that I did also have a dog, and he seemed fine with letting me have one pet or the other. This, to me, meant that I could cop to having a dog and just sneak my cat in under the cover of darkness. However when I took another quick look at the "space" (I feel that calling an area that tiny "space" is misleading.) I realized that there would be no way in hell that my two pets and I would be able to spend even one night together there without all putting on some white tennis shoes and brewing up a batch of some special Kool-Aid.

So I told him I would think about it and get back to him, to which he replied, "Yeah, get back to me fast because I am getting an almost maddening amount of phone calls about it." I bit my tongue to avoid replying with, "Well maybe if the size dimensions, lack of natural lighting and complete inability to fit even a mattress in here were mentioned in the add you could have avoided that."

* ever since seeing the movie, The "40 Year Old Virgin" I can't think or say "Brooklyn" without affecting the accent that Mooj uses when taking about his accent's derivation. So, for those of you who have any idea as to what I am talking about, please hear it pronounced that way whenever I write it.