That little itch in the deep dark night...or....You're never alone....no, really....never!

This is my first blog entry in months and months....so I'm going to make it a good and titillating one, that you won't soon forget.

About six months after I moved to NYC, I started living in what was perhaps the shittiest apartment building in Manhattan, near the southern border of the neighborhood known as Hell's Kitchen....in the West 30's.  The place was shady to say the least, but my room was relatively cheap, I paid in cash, and the landlord usually left me alone, which is usually just fine with me. But this landlord was the kind of guy who, on one hand, would lock someone out of his apartment if he didn't pay his rent on time....and on the other, would have letters from lawyers (and even The People's Court, once) piling up by the mail boxes because of unreturned security deposits (and, I'm sure that it's no coincidence that I never got mine back).  His name was Kamal, but he asked to be called "John."  File that in the back of your mind if you're looking at apartments/rooms in that neighborhood.

So, to begin with, these were anything but deluxe accommodations.  There was no living room (I used to point at the tall buildings and streets outside when friends came over, and exclaim, "NEW YORK CITY is my fucking LIVING room, ok?!!"  Hahahahaha), and nothing but the most basic of amenities (the kitchen and bathroom were at least sufficient).  The walls between the bedrooms (and between each apartment) were paper thin at best, and shoddily put together. Hell, I believe there was even open space at the top of my bedroom wall...which I think I covered up with something.  We all need a LITTLE bit of privacy, by God!

Well, it turns out that I didn't have as much of that as I had hoped.

One night I decided to stay in and get some decent rest and a little peace of mind.   I was lying in my bed listening to the Verve, and just starting to go to sleep.  Do you know the feeling when you're trying to sleep, and for some reason, you get taunted by these pesky, unexplainable, spontaneous itches?  Well, that's what I thought was happening.  But then...something....fucking HURT all of the sudden.  I shot out of my bed, and there, on my leg, was this little reddish-black bug, feasting on me.  I pulled the blankets back and there were a couple more of them.  I grabbed a tissue and....well, crushed them.  They became red splotches against the white tissue.  BLOOD!  I pulled my mattress back, and there was a mini-New York City of BEDBUGS going on...in MY BED!!!!  The HORROR!!!!

I don't recall having felt so terrified or helpless at any point in my life, before or since.  But I had to do something....these were the days when I had work in the morning.  So, I think I found some bleach or some similar cleaning product and a bunch of rags, and basically caused a mini-chemical tsunami on the city beneath my mattress and temporarily remedied the situation enough to get a somewhat decent night's sleep.

I felt trapped because I didn't have the wherewithal at the time to just pick up and split; Craig's list wasn't really happening yet, so it was WAY harder to find a roof then.  Complaints to my landlord fell on deaf ears, and from what I heard, the entire building was infested.  FUCK!.

The best solution I could come up with was to clean everything up as best I could, get a new mattress....then my roommate and I would get Raid "bug bombs", which were essentially, bug sprays that you'd open up, then leave the apartment for a few hours while they emptied out and did their work.  It didn't really harm the bugs, but at least it scared them into neighboring apartments, and kept them out of ours, for the most part....until we finally just couldn't take it anymore, and split.

Whenever I walk by there, I usually utter some kind of expletive.  The memories are deeply ingrained I guess.

There was one funny thing that happened because of our bedbug problem.  I very briefly dated a girl who lived a very privileged life in her dad's HUGE apartment in a Park Avenue high rise....but he was never home.  Anyway, once, she decided so "slum it" and spend a night at my place.  A couple of days later, she called me up, said something about having some kind of bug bites, and asked if this might have come from my apartment.

In my best Jackie Chiles from Seinfeld voice, I quickly blurted, "I-dunno-anything-about-it!" and hung up the phone.  I haven't heard from her since. Sorry about that. 

Anyway....needless to say, I don't miss those days one bit!

Thanks for reading!  I know it wasn't easy.  Hell, I'm itching all over now just from writing it....ahahaha....I think!


Marty E.

You Should Have Never Opened That Door or This Might Have Been The Guy Everyone's Parents Warned Us About (Wierd Tales from the City, Part 1)

When I moved to New York City, over 9 years ago, it was even harder to find a place to live than it is now....hell, I'd say it was a *lot* harder, now that I think about it. There was no Craig's List, to speak of (I think maybe it was just starting at that point) for one to find ads in, nor was there Facebook/Twitter/Myspace, etc, to help get the word across. There was the Village Voice (the PRINT version), but anything listed in there was almost always GONE by the time you even had a chance to read the ad. There were all kinds of "services" that would supposedly give you "lists" of available apartments if you'd give them, for, like, $200....but most of those were scams, and often, they were just reprints of the Voice ads. Fuckers.

There was one service that I used that *was* legit, and...to the lady who worked there that helped me....wherever she is, God bless your heart, wherever you are....and to my good friend Alfredo, who had a very soft floor in Bay Ridge, Brooklyn for me to crash on for the time-being.

That being said, it was still quite the adventure calling all these people who were looking for roommates, figuring out whether or not they were worth pursuing, and inevitably hopping all over a sweltering New York City (which I didn't know my way around quite yet, but was learning) to look at these apartments and meet these people.

[Overwhelming? Welcome to my life....and maybe yours too, right?]

But I'm writing today to tell you about the best story I picked up while desperately seeking a feasible living space. Some of you who know me might have heard this one, but....this is the type of story that NEVER gets old, and one I will never forget.

So, I saw a listing for a room in a two-bedroom apartment on the Upper West Side of Manhattan, right by the corner of 83rd and Broadway, for about $700. So far, so good, right? So, I called this dude, who sounded sane and cool enough in the brief conversation I had with him on the phone. Furthermore, if I remember correctly, I believe I was the first caller, which inspired confidence. So I made an appointment to see meet this guy at his apartment that afternoon, around 3pm. Good shit!

So, I looked at my trusty Subway map and got my ass in gear and went over there....the apartment was on the 8th floor I think....the building at a doctor's office at street level....I got in the elevator, which lifted me to the 8th floor. The first thing I saw when the doors opened up was a "welcome" mat that said, "GET LOST!" I looked at my piece of paper, and was relieved that this was NOT the apartment I was to look at (but it was, indeed, good advice, as we're about to find out). I turned to my left and walked on down to the end of the hall, and knocked on the door.

The door opened up....and what I saw was a weird motherfucker in his mid-fifties....he sort of looked like a way-more-weathered Gary Busey. He was fat, had "gin blossons" on his nose, and had the three long hairs on his head pulled back in a pony tail. No shit. He sort of lunged at me, grabbed one of my shoulders, while "patting" the other one (pretty hard, mind you), sort of pulled me in and bellowed, "HI! HOW are YOUUU?!!!! You must me MARRRRRTY!!!!!" The guy seemed to be perpetually shouting...not in an angry way but....they guy was just too happy in his own skin, especially when it looked like that!

Anyway, we stepped into the living room, where there were two grand pianos, some sheet music strewn on the floor, and some college kid from Laos, who was all of 19-years-old at the very most, lying on a mat in the corner. "THIS IS ONE OF MY TENANTS," the guy said. I wondered how much he was charging this poor kid for a corner of the living room....but it occurred to me quickly that I'd rather not know what the arrangement was.

He led me to the room I was there to look at, which was fine....then we went through the door to the bathroom....then through another door to his room....all the while, he was constantly patting my shoulders....the thought of which still makes me queasy. I guess he wanted to discuss business in his room. Great. "HAVE A SEAT HERE....on the BED", he all but screamed. "Fuck that shit", I was thinking, while I practically jumped into the chair at his desk instead.

So he began telling me his story, with occasional interjections from me. "WELL....I'm an ACTOR and I TEACH PIANO LESSONS in the LIVING ROOM, there, which is why the PIANOS are IN THERE!!!! I go OUT from TIME to TIME, and DRINK and PLAY CARDS.....and I DATE MEN AND WOMEN...."

Which, is fine, but.....

Holy shit, this guy was just too much!!!! Do you remember the dude you were afraid was going to come and GET you when you were a little kid and couldn't sleep? Well, THIS was the GUY!

So, I mentioned that my former girlfriend from back home was to visit me for a week or so, and asked if he would have a problem with that. "NOOOOOO.....NOPE....I can't be HAVING THAT," he roared.

"OK, then," I said, "Um....really nice meeting you anyway!"

Hahahahahaha....

It wasn't over yet. Apparently he had to go downstairs for something, so....I had to do what no living organism ever wanted to do, and that was get in the elevator with this guy!

So, in the elevator, he asked me why I moved to New York, and I briefly explained to him that I was a drummer looking for a band.

Without as much as a split second's hesitation, he ROARED, "YEAH!!!! THAT WAY YOU CAN BE A ROCK STAR and FUCK 'EM AAAAAALLLLLLL!!!!!!!!! AHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!!!!!!!!!!!!"

[I couldn't do anything but laugh my ass off right along with him, if only because....I knew what he meant when he said, "ALL"!

The End.