What Colors the Steel Sky Blue

No one prepares and nothing for that matter can really prepare you for the ever so treacherous process of apartment hunting in New York City. There are so many things to consider and take into account. First of there is the money you can put out for rent, then where you work, where you party, where you would like to workout, where the subways are, who owns the property, the lease terms, your cool friends' expectations, your parents expectations, your pets, proximity to restaurants and parks etc. The list is endless. This is why it seemed so strange when my apartment hunt took less than half a day. I either had the best broker in town, or I was rushed into renting an apartment, or perhaps both.

New York is a city that has absolutely no patience for people who do not know what they want in life. This city clearly, openly, and shamelessly discriminates against these slow decision makers --their life eventually turns into a trail of poorly made decisions, unhappiness, and misery in the city --eventually they move away and bicker about what a horrible place New York is. I am one of those people. I think glaciers sometimes make decisions faster than I do.

I found my broker through one of my new office mates' recommendation. He and his company Manhattan apartments were helpful but they were not ready and/or willing to spend a week with me while I went through my motions for making a decision.

So one Tuesday morning, John the broker and I went on our apartment shopping spree. I think there is a certain formula these brokers follow every time, and it must work like a charm, cause it sure did work on me. They first show you your worst nightmare apartments, one perhaps at max two of these. Once your expectations are lowered to the point of actually considering Brooklyn as a viable option, they start showing you the good stuff. But beware, the good stuff comes with its own emotional baggage. Every time you pronounce an apartment as one you would consider suddenly all other Manhattannites line up to steal this apartment from you. So just like a good opportunity in life, you have to make the excruciating decision of whether you should jump on the apartment or you should keep looking and risk losing it.

Well I am chicken. Predictably when I saw my dream apartment, I did not even care where it was located: Smack in the center of East Focking Village. I thought hey, at least I was on Manhattan, I was close to the subway --or so I thought, the apartment was huuuuge, and it was brand new for a whopping rent of $2200 per month. Ouch city. I could not imagine what the rent was like uptown.

Once I had made the decision, I needed approval. So I gave my older cousin Memduh a ring and he was rushed to my new address to approve the choice. He seemed to be fond of it. He was actually surprised by how glitzy the interior of the apartment was with comparison to the exterior. The property was located on Stuyvesant Town, a former veterans families project recently acquired and currently run by MetLife. The lease however pricey was very flexible, allowing me to move out almost any time without any serious penalty fees. So if I thought if I absolutely hated it, I could get rid of the place and move on up to better apartments.

John switched to high gear as he took me to the bank, then to the leasing office. The application fee of $500 was put down, then the deposit which was two month's rent (ouch), $4400, then they required me to pay the first month's rent another $2200 and finally there was the broker's fee 17% of my yearly rent --bend me over the barrel, any time now. So within the course of a few hours I parted with close to $11,000. It felt very strange, it felt good. Already a week into my stay in NYC, I was enjoying putting more zeros after digits. This was not a good precedent. This town was going to slowly invite me to live more and more beyond my means -- a pattern that will eventually make my continued stay there financially impossible.