Week 16: 4 flights of stairs, Intoxicated Tacos, & A Tattoo.

I promise, I haven’t jumped ship. I have started and failed to write too-many-a-blogs. I’ve just been somewhat pre-occupied with NYC torturing me a little bit. Just a little.

9.4: I’m currently sitting in a coffee shop in Park Slope. Steps away from my soon-to-be-if-all-goes-as-planned home. Yes. HOME. As of today, I’m technically without a bed to call my own. An air mattress just doesn’t count. I found the perfect new place in the perfect neighborhood, but as I’ve mentioned the process of finalizing a place here is much like pulling teeth – it seems like it takes forever (I’ve been dancing this find-a-home dance for 2 months) and all the while theres this agonizing headache. At this point, I’ve placed in my application and just waiting to get approval so that I can put down a deposit. I CANNOT wait. I’m still in a slow boiling panic mode… what if I don’t get it?!? I’ve been graciously accepted as a new home guest by my friend Chelsea. She also just moved into a new place – a studio. I can’t believe how much of a pain this whole process is.

Moving in general tends to be a bitch. Moving in NYC is torture. After renting a Zipcar Chelsea and I packed up the car and took two trips from upper upper Manhattan (Wash Heights) to Brooklyn (Park Slope). I think we were in pretty good spirits until the second trip of 4 flights of stairs. Did I mention we’re on the 4th floor? No elevator. I got my workout and then some. Thankfully Chelsea’s boyfriend helped us, but don’t be fooled… I’ve never been so sore.

DSC_5110Then there’s the whole thing where the was no AC. You see how my shoulder has a lovely glisten to it? That’s sweat. Lots and LOTS of sweat.

Last night was the first night I’ve had AC since we moved Monday. The AC was brought over by the movers on Tuesday and had broken on the way over… after 2 hours at your friendly (not) Best Buy we were finally able to get a replacement. Contrary to the numerous videos on youtube providing How-To’s on installing a window unit – it is NOT that freaking easy. I still couldn’t install everything properly, but at least there was SOME air last night. Hallelujah.

ac

All in all this past week or so has been a lovely headache after another. It will ALL be worth it if my soon-to-be-home will actually be my home. If all goes well I move in a couple of weeks. Cross some fingers for me, please.

You know my favorite part of Park Slope?

I get to walk to the Subway in the midst of the cutest freaking place on Earth. It feels SO homey.

morning stroll

On an unrelated note… As I’ve been going through this long and frustrating process I started to pay attention to things that NYC has that Orlando didn’t. Difficulty in finding a place being one of them. I’ve also noticed how terrible customer service can be here and nobody cares. I was expecting less smiling faces on the streets, but even the one mall (it was really weird to be in a mall) in BK had some seriously grumpy employees. I also wanted to share my Terrible-Taco experience I had a couple weeks ago that I didn’t get to blog about…

I don’t want to get anyone in trouble or put any ‘bad’ reviews out into the internet world (not that anyone reads this) so I won’t say the name of the establishment, but one Friday night a few weeks ago I was really hungry. As per usual. And I was out with some friends going towards the Lower East Side… we decided tacos were in order so we stopped at a favorite spot of their’s… A tiny closet-like space with a counter and space behind it for the dude to make the tacos. When we got there the place was bumping with bass (good sign?) and tunes I could definitely get down to. The dude behind the counter looked very friendly… a bit too friendly? He was unmistakably intoxicated. Not drunk, no. No… this must have been a creative combination of drugs.  He took something like 45 minutes to make tacos that should have taken a maximum of 10 minutes. He would grab a paper plate and likely forget what he was doing so he stood there for a minute or two and then continue making pit stops in-between the beans and the meat. With intermittent face contortion and slurring of words the dude finally made our tacos (with the exception of one which must have slipped his mind). The food was not bad… pretty tasty, until I found a pebble in my taco. Not a tiny little dust pebble. A pebble of about 1.5 cm in diameter. Thankfully I didn’t bite down hard… Honestly I just wanted to let it go. Speaking with someone THAT intoxicated is impossible… their comprehension skills (whatever is left of them) are non-existent. Anyway, my friend insisted I should at least get my money back… so we attempted to do just that. The dude was nice, but astonished… I can’t be sure what he really thought as I’m inclined to ignore a conversation with anyone incapable of producing full sentences. In the end of the back and forth I got $5 out of the $9 I paid. I’m fairly sure he thought he gave me everything.

The surprising thing to me… people were still coming to this taco spot. They clearly saw how f*cked up this guy was. A guy that would be making their taco. And they still flocked our way… they didn’t even care that I had a pebble in my food. If this happened in Orlando, the popos would be there in 5 minutes and the place would be shut down. As terrible of an experience this was, I kind of loved it.

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So as of today we still don’t have wifi at home and I forget when Chelsea said that will go in so I’m not sure when I’ll get the chance to write before the week is over. And since I have barely written anything in the past month I want to make sure to post this early.

 Here is a photo of Chelsea and me celebrating our arrival to the neighborhood.

chelsea

In case you were wondering wtf is that on my arm… I got a tattoo. And I love it. Mom, if you’re reading this stop reading now. I’ll give you some space. K Thanks. Have a great week everyone!

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2 thoughts on “Week 16: 4 flights of stairs, Intoxicated Tacos, & A Tattoo.

  1. Pingback: A New Yorker: The Countdown Begins | Funk Meets A Lady

  2. Pingback: I made it a whole year! | Funk Meets A Lady

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