Moving In...

I moved in to 1990 Lexington Ave. on August 1st, 2006. The heat wave was several days from breaking, but over 2 dozen people in the city had already died from the intolerable climate. Having moved away from my parent’s only months prior, I had very few possessions and had just purchased a bed which was slated to be delivered to my new apartment that very day.
I floated down Lexington ave. from the 125th street stop, donning my best shirt and tie. As I approached the entrance to the tower, I noticed an unmarked box truck across the street, parked in front of one of the three bodegas on the block. I shouted across to one of the workers from the truck as he hoisted the trucks rear-door and confirmed that they were in fact there to deliver a mattress. As my mattress slid off the back of the truck I heard a female voice call my name from behind. Spinning on my axis I found myself face-to-face with a former college classmate, whom I had not seen in about a year-and-a-half. More surprised than I was to see her, she inquired as to whether or not I was moving in and I emphatically told her yes, and pointed out my mattress being trudged across Lexington avenue through rush hour traffic. It turned out that she had been shown my apartment (being on the top floor and having a great view, it was the model apartment that the broker chose to bait the clientele with). While she was mildly jealous that my roommate and I had leased the place in front of her, she was happy to see a familiar face in a land of strangers. She wound up living 2 floors below me, on 31 (the thirty-first floor).

Following my mattress being carted through the bland lobby of 1990, I was met with a series of inquisitive, yet unabashed stares. In the elevator, which surprisingly could hold a full-size mattress and about nine other passengers, an elderly woman asked if I was moving in. When I acknowledged she said, “Well, welcome.” I thanked her profusely, and was happy when I was the last person off the elevator on the 33rd floor.