The One That Got Away

FOUR MONTHS LATER June, 2009. Lease expiration date: 8/31/09. Time to start looking: now. I resumed the search by posting an ad on Craigs List. It worked the last time. Maybe lightening would strike twice. $2000 Quiet Studio or 1 Bedroom Wanted-Upper West Side (Upper West Side)  Date: 1969-12-31, 7:33PM EST Reply to: hous-rcbpv-1303284339@craigslist.org Single female looking for Quiet studio or 1 bedroom, Upper West side; good closets, good light; Doorman or at least elevator; on site super; prewar preferred. good management company. Brokers are not welcome. I will NOT pay a fee. I looked at the date on my ad. 1969? Had I traveled back in time? Did they even have Craig’s List in 1969? I wondered if that would remain. The expiration date on postings is one week. Forty years and one week has to be pushing it. Was this a sign of things to come? Are the forces telling me the only way to get an apartment is to travel back in time? The first response seemed to good to be true. It was a one-bedroom apartment in the Astor, the first prewar building I fell in love with. Centrally located at 75th and Broadway. Near Zabars, H&H Bagels, around the corner from Barneys and a cat veterinarian. Working fireplaces in all units. Washer dryer on all floors. Grand lobby, original fixtures. I’d seen a tiny studio in February, with a northern exposure, no closet (under construction) and miniscule yet well appointed white kitchen and bath. It reminded me of my old apartment in Philly. Had circumstances permitted, I would have moved there in a heartbeat. Now, first shot out of the box, I hear from an Astor tenant who needed to sublet. I tried not to get my hopes up but counted the seconds until the viewing, 10:30 on Saturday morning. We pushed it to 10:45, because she had yoga, or cycling, or something. I arrived at 10:30. I wanted to get a feel for the building and stay as long as possible. A not too friendly doorman greeted me. “Who are you hear to see?” “Someone named Jodi. I’m here to see her apartment.” “Which apartment number?” “She didn’t say. I’m meeting her here.” He stared blankly at me. “What do you think; I’m trying to rob the place?” I tried to make small talk, but it was like trying to get those guards at the palace in London to crack a smile. “Where’d you go to charm school?” Jodi arrived just in time, accompanied by a large, red faced, sweaty woman wearing very small tights. “Cheryl? Hi, I’m Jodi. This is Elsie; she’s in my class and wanted to see the apartment.” "Great." Already I’m competing for this apartment. Wasn’t Elsie the cow in the Borden dairy commercials? “It’s kind of small.” said Elsie. You wouldn’t have a problem squeezing into it. Hell, you made it into those tights. You can't possibly own a mirror. If you’d seen how your butt looks in those pants, you would have never left your house. It was a cute, sunny apartment with a working fireplace and big windows overlooking a courtyard and a view of other apartments. At least the apartments were far enough away so as not to see into them. A white ladder like stairway (or a stairway like ladder) led to a spacious loft, which was more like a walk in closet. It even had a large shelf. “Go ahead, climb up.” Jodie climbed up. “See, you can stand in it. You can use it for either a bedroom, or storage.” I climbed the first two steps, but was afraid to continue. If only I wasn’t afraid of heights. And clumsy. No way would this be a bedroom, but it would be a great closet, even if I had to tip someone to climb up and get whatever item of clothing I was storing there. A faux antique lamp stood in the corner. The kitchen was white, across from a window, and very narrow. It had no microwave. If Elsie took this apartment, she better keep doing the cardio, or she’ll get stuck between the fridge and the stove. While Elsie clomped around the loft, Jodie said they had rented the apartment for their nanny, but it didn’t work out, and she wasn’t comfortable saying more. This raised a red flag, but I loved the apartment. We hit it off immediately. We were wearing the same shirt and the same color nail polish. “Kismet," she said. “What’s the rent?” “$2,000. We’re paying $2,250 but we want to sublet it fast, so we’re offering a discount.” Red flag number two. “We’ll have to check your credit; it’s fine, isn’t it?” I was too embarrassed to say otherwise, especially while the blimp in tights hovered above us. “We’ll need first, last, and security.” Jodie was nice, but my radar sensed a tough businesswoman underneath. “Would I pay the building?” “No, you pay me. I live around the corner. You can drop it off, or I’ll pick it up.” “Couldn’t I pay the building?” “No. Technically they don’t allow sublets, but Charles the rental agent said he would look the other way, since we just took the apartment. We’d have a sublease, and your name will be added as an occupant of the apartment. Next year, you can apply with management and keep the apartment.” Warning bells went off in my head. My rational self knew this wasn’t a good idea. But the other 99 percent of my brain tried to figure out how to make this work. Pros: The apartment is great, the building is great, the location is great. Cons: You will have to pay on the 1st of month, or she will torture you and throw you out. If management doesn’t get your checks, you won’t be able to argue at end of sublease that you’ve paid timely for a year. They could easily kick you out. The rent will go back up to $2,500 by next year. She won’t rent to you anyway once she sees your credit with the identity theft issues, so why are you still thinking about this? I discussed this with my lawyer co workers. “What if she decides she wants the apartment back when she gets another nanny? You have no legal right to the apartment. Even if she doesn’t kick you out, management can, at any time. This is a terrible idea. Forget it.” Later in the week Jodi emailed me that they would let me have the apartment for 1st month, and security, to be paid when I moved in. I was tempted, but my colleagues would not allow it. A couple weeks later, in a moment of weakness, I asked if it was still available. Alas, someone else was illegally subletting my apartment. I’ll always think of the apartment at the Astor with sadness, as the one that got away. Even if it was for the best.