(First)
Brief History of Trying to Get Rid of Stacey's Apartment (and a few other things).
Friday, June 25.
I realize now I shouldn't have trusted someone named Raul from Texas. Nothing to do with ethnicity, it just doesn't add up. Raul strung us along about Stacey's efficiency for more than a week, claiming to be very interested and ready to take it. After I sent the apartment application to him, I didn't hear back for over a week. He emailed back on a Friday night to let us know he'd gotten engaged and wouldn't need the place anymore. I just have to wonder what business he had looking for a place in the first place if engagement was anywhere near a reality (which it obviously was). You'd be proud of me, though. I sent a brief yet civil email back to him, thanking him for the reply, congratulating him on the engagement, and gently mentioning the fact that he'd put us in a difficult situation. Sure, we still have 3 weeks before the wedding but rent is due July 1 and it's nice to have an idea of what to expect before then. After getting the email around 10pm, we spend some time venting our frustration in various ways (Stacey sitting dejectedly on the couch, then outside -- me mumbling threats against Raul and his family (who kept telling me "he not here!" whenever I called) and pacing) and then sending out emails, getting back on roommates.com, etc. I admit I should have had a few other folks looking at the apartment and just gone with whoever signed a lease first rather than trying to trust Raul.
I walked Stacey back to her place around 1:30am. We're both about ready to drop and I decided to crash at her place because a few folks were outside partying and occasionally that gets crazy enough to really make her afraid. At just after 2am we hear loud mariachi music booming. It sounds like a parade is right outside in the street. I go out, phone in hand, and confront a drunken Mexican fellow who has all the doors on his large new purple SUV open and his stereo nearly convulsing. Again, I was pretty proud of myself that I worked with him gently and told him he should turn it down so the cops don't come. Feeling pretty downtrodden (and wishing I were as drunk as he) at the time, I don't want to make anyone else feel bad. Poor guy's probably working heavy hours at a nasty job, just trying to make a better life for himself and his family (most of whom probably aren't in the U.S.). All he wants is to have a good time on a Friday night, drink a little Tecate, drink some tequila, drink a lot more Tecate...and listen to the music that he loves, that gets him through an otherwise drudgy draggy life.
Saturday, June 26.
We proceed as planned with the day, going to look at wedding bands. We discover a close-by Irish import shop and Stacey falls in love with their scones. I fall in love with the idea of Guinness pajamas even though I don't even WEAR pajamas.
We end up going to see Fahrenheit 9/11 at 2pm, work on the apartment situation for a while, and then go to a "gathering" later on in the evening. We dig the folks We get back to Stacey's apartment around 9:30 and notice the ceiling is leaking in her bathroom. We go to find the apartment manager. As we know already (because we'd looked at an open place in the same building earlier that week but not really liked it for us), the apartment manager is out of town for a month and a kid (literally, he's no more than 19) named Richard is in her place. Stacey went to find him and later told me that when he opened the door, he and the girl hanging out with him seemed in a daze and had bloodshot, hazy eyes. He came back to her apartment and promptly stuck his finger through the soggy ceiling, let out a "holy shit!" and seemed pleased that he was Taking Care of the Situation. He tried to talk to the people in the place above Stacey's but they (we heard them talking and scrambling around) went to the back of their place and hid for some reason. We later realized they're way behind on their rent and are about to be evicted, as the apartment that's open is theirs (the one we looked at was just like it so we'd get a feel for the outlay and space). We just hoped there wouldn't be any cave-ins before Sunday, not only because Stacey needs a bathroom but also because someone was coming by to check out the place at 2. Then we realized that maybe if it caved in, she could get out of her lease...so we just kind of prayed that something good would come of this all.
Sunday, June 27
We rushed back to Stacey's after church (didn't even stay for coffee hour!) so she could clean it before some girl named "Crystal" was to come at 2. Meanwhile I had to do my dishes and clean up my place because my roommate was showing it to an 18 year old girl from some rural part of Nebraska and her parents at 1 (or, as it turned out, 1:30). I put in some time and good words for our vacancy and head over to Stacey's. At 1:55 Crystal called and said thank you, she's found another place. Before we can really dwell on it or mess the place up, Stacey and I head out and go downtown to the Arts Festival, where we made fun of people and ate some good food. I also then went down to the Antiquarium and chatted up my favorite Record Store Clerk, Dave, who informed me that according to Simon Joyner, Saddle Creek Records is pretty much built on the influence of Dexy's Midnight Runners. Tim Kasher and Conor Oberst both apparently are huge fans and Kasher derives quite a bit from DMR. Most record store clerks, even those big into the SC scene, I would've just nodded and smiled. Dave, however, isn't really all that big on SC, is far older than any of us (late 40s or early 50s at the minimum) and is far more into bands like Mission of Burma, the Minutemen, Wire, and so on. The next day (I went in to hang up a show poster) he told me that he prefers music that, when faced with the troubles of life, injustices, etc., gets an attitude and balls about it, not just sits around and mopes. He also described a couple records to me and said he played them back to back and once he was done, the other record store clerk (who is in a great band called The Bombardment Society) nearly had to have him hospitalized on account of listlessness.
Contrary to Dave's taste in music, I am a moper more than a steam-blower, so we spend some of Sunday night doing that while getting ready to fill the apartment (emailing, messaging through roommates.com, etc.).
Monday, June 28
I took the day off of work to get some wedding stuff done. As it turns out, not a ton more needs done but the apartment situation looms, so I work mostly on that. We ended up showing the place to several people, the last of whom left around 10pm. No word on the ceiling leak. Richard probably forgot everything that happened while he was high. Everyone who came to look at the place either was working pretty well in advance (good for them!) or were in a bind and parts of their situation left us with hope yet not so hopeful that we can relax yet.
Hopefully the good news is coming soon.
Brief History of Trying to Get Rid of Stacey's Apartment (and a few other things).
Friday, June 25.
I realize now I shouldn't have trusted someone named Raul from Texas. Nothing to do with ethnicity, it just doesn't add up. Raul strung us along about Stacey's efficiency for more than a week, claiming to be very interested and ready to take it. After I sent the apartment application to him, I didn't hear back for over a week. He emailed back on a Friday night to let us know he'd gotten engaged and wouldn't need the place anymore. I just have to wonder what business he had looking for a place in the first place if engagement was anywhere near a reality (which it obviously was). You'd be proud of me, though. I sent a brief yet civil email back to him, thanking him for the reply, congratulating him on the engagement, and gently mentioning the fact that he'd put us in a difficult situation. Sure, we still have 3 weeks before the wedding but rent is due July 1 and it's nice to have an idea of what to expect before then. After getting the email around 10pm, we spend some time venting our frustration in various ways (Stacey sitting dejectedly on the couch, then outside -- me mumbling threats against Raul and his family (who kept telling me "he not here!" whenever I called) and pacing) and then sending out emails, getting back on roommates.com, etc. I admit I should have had a few other folks looking at the apartment and just gone with whoever signed a lease first rather than trying to trust Raul.
I walked Stacey back to her place around 1:30am. We're both about ready to drop and I decided to crash at her place because a few folks were outside partying and occasionally that gets crazy enough to really make her afraid. At just after 2am we hear loud mariachi music booming. It sounds like a parade is right outside in the street. I go out, phone in hand, and confront a drunken Mexican fellow who has all the doors on his large new purple SUV open and his stereo nearly convulsing. Again, I was pretty proud of myself that I worked with him gently and told him he should turn it down so the cops don't come. Feeling pretty downtrodden (and wishing I were as drunk as he) at the time, I don't want to make anyone else feel bad. Poor guy's probably working heavy hours at a nasty job, just trying to make a better life for himself and his family (most of whom probably aren't in the U.S.). All he wants is to have a good time on a Friday night, drink a little Tecate, drink some tequila, drink a lot more Tecate...and listen to the music that he loves, that gets him through an otherwise drudgy draggy life.
Saturday, June 26.
We proceed as planned with the day, going to look at wedding bands. We discover a close-by Irish import shop and Stacey falls in love with their scones. I fall in love with the idea of Guinness pajamas even though I don't even WEAR pajamas.
We end up going to see Fahrenheit 9/11 at 2pm, work on the apartment situation for a while, and then go to a "gathering" later on in the evening. We dig the folks We get back to Stacey's apartment around 9:30 and notice the ceiling is leaking in her bathroom. We go to find the apartment manager. As we know already (because we'd looked at an open place in the same building earlier that week but not really liked it for us), the apartment manager is out of town for a month and a kid (literally, he's no more than 19) named Richard is in her place. Stacey went to find him and later told me that when he opened the door, he and the girl hanging out with him seemed in a daze and had bloodshot, hazy eyes. He came back to her apartment and promptly stuck his finger through the soggy ceiling, let out a "holy shit!" and seemed pleased that he was Taking Care of the Situation. He tried to talk to the people in the place above Stacey's but they (we heard them talking and scrambling around) went to the back of their place and hid for some reason. We later realized they're way behind on their rent and are about to be evicted, as the apartment that's open is theirs (the one we looked at was just like it so we'd get a feel for the outlay and space). We just hoped there wouldn't be any cave-ins before Sunday, not only because Stacey needs a bathroom but also because someone was coming by to check out the place at 2. Then we realized that maybe if it caved in, she could get out of her lease...so we just kind of prayed that something good would come of this all.
Sunday, June 27
We rushed back to Stacey's after church (didn't even stay for coffee hour!) so she could clean it before some girl named "Crystal" was to come at 2. Meanwhile I had to do my dishes and clean up my place because my roommate was showing it to an 18 year old girl from some rural part of Nebraska and her parents at 1 (or, as it turned out, 1:30). I put in some time and good words for our vacancy and head over to Stacey's. At 1:55 Crystal called and said thank you, she's found another place. Before we can really dwell on it or mess the place up, Stacey and I head out and go downtown to the Arts Festival, where we made fun of people and ate some good food. I also then went down to the Antiquarium and chatted up my favorite Record Store Clerk, Dave, who informed me that according to Simon Joyner, Saddle Creek Records is pretty much built on the influence of Dexy's Midnight Runners. Tim Kasher and Conor Oberst both apparently are huge fans and Kasher derives quite a bit from DMR. Most record store clerks, even those big into the SC scene, I would've just nodded and smiled. Dave, however, isn't really all that big on SC, is far older than any of us (late 40s or early 50s at the minimum) and is far more into bands like Mission of Burma, the Minutemen, Wire, and so on. The next day (I went in to hang up a show poster) he told me that he prefers music that, when faced with the troubles of life, injustices, etc., gets an attitude and balls about it, not just sits around and mopes. He also described a couple records to me and said he played them back to back and once he was done, the other record store clerk (who is in a great band called The Bombardment Society) nearly had to have him hospitalized on account of listlessness.
Contrary to Dave's taste in music, I am a moper more than a steam-blower, so we spend some of Sunday night doing that while getting ready to fill the apartment (emailing, messaging through roommates.com, etc.).
Monday, June 28
I took the day off of work to get some wedding stuff done. As it turns out, not a ton more needs done but the apartment situation looms, so I work mostly on that. We ended up showing the place to several people, the last of whom left around 10pm. No word on the ceiling leak. Richard probably forgot everything that happened while he was high. Everyone who came to look at the place either was working pretty well in advance (good for them!) or were in a bind and parts of their situation left us with hope yet not so hopeful that we can relax yet.
Hopefully the good news is coming soon.
posted by Joel @ 6/29/2004 11:14:00 AM
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