Refrigeration Station
I cannot overstate my amazement with people who just know how to do seemingly difficult things without training. Similar to my theory that people are born gay, they are also born with math skills, and being handy feels predetermined. My brother having only used a bathroom, one day decided to gut and refurbish that bathroom. He was successful. In contrast I can probably open a stuck jar of sauce. If you have one of those rubber circles for gripping the lid. Where am I going with this?
Well, out of total desperation created by the distance apart from my brother I was forced into purchasing and installing an Air Conditioner alone. Wishing to curb any backlash from my roommate, I'll point out he was involved on some level.
Recent weather conditions and the presence of only one window in my apartment, that happens to reside in my roommates quarters forced me to make the trip to the appliance store in downtown Brooklyn. Upon arrival it was clear that AC Units would be this day's Cabbage Patch Kids with parents and children jockeying for position around the virtual pile of cooling devices. I was able to catch the attention of a salesmen who had no doubt sensed my urgency to purchase. I'm guessing it was either the film of disgust dried to my face from a day of perspiration, or my credit card being held above my head and twirled between my fingers like a hair metal drum stick that brought him directly.
To this point in my life the extent of interaction between me and these cooling machines was limited to turning one on and off. That being said, my research on what I needed was limited. The salesmen offered me two ways he could hose me. I tried to lock eyes as I clarified that these were in fact the only two models that would fit the description of where I would ultimately house the beast. On this day desperation would conquer intimidation and this veteran of the polyester pants, and sales floor knew I held no advantage.
Once purchased I entered a sea of people all waiting for their items to be delivered by hand cart to the front of the store. Much like the Elephant who is bound by a rope it could easily break but has been tricked into thinking there's no escape, the poor bastard with this hand cart clearly had no idea how brutal his position really was. As I waited I began to hatch a plan of how to get this heavy box back to the apartment. With vehicles at a premium for most people in New York, there is a vultures nest outside of every store that sells heavy or cumbersome items. As a preemptive strike against being accosted I called a car service. They promptly told me that they'd not being coming down there. As I feared, Anarchy rules in this den of unlicensed "cabs". My only hope was that once outside I might catch the arrant yellow cab lost in Brooklyn.
No such luck. My box and I were left for dead on the curb facing Atlantic Ave, thousands of miles from where I grew up on Atlantic St. in a place where a mission like this was an after thought. With dreams of cool air parading through my bedroom wall that night I realized that much like with the salesmen, I was without leverage, and would accept just about any ride offered. It was at this point a broke down looking fellow approached with an antique cell phone attached to his shirt and inquired if I wanted a ride in his van. An inquiry that on any other day or in any other circumstance would have been met with a look of disgust and a negative reply would have to turn affirmative. If he had cellular technology than I would at least look at his van.
Perhaps boarding a cargo van with a couple strange dudes who appeared to live ride to ride wasn't a moment of brilliance, but please do not judge. Once in the back of the van I began texting friends with a description of the van in case I had unwittingly boarded a pirate vessel. As if dude #1 pressing the gas had triggered it I immediately realized I had no cash. My chauffeurs had perhaps never seen a credit card let alone set up a system of payment using one, so any crack of light at the end of this journey had just been filled with caulk that could seal out even the greatest chance for success.
I announced to my captor, er, driver that I'd be needing to stop at the ATM. After three minutes of language barrier I think he understood me to say, "I'm going to give you an opportunity to steal this air conditioner without having to dispose of a body". He must have been over joyed but maintained a calm demeanor. We pulled up at a check cashing joint, which I felt was in poor form since if you intended to make off with my AC you could have at least found me a place to get money where the ATM fee wouldn't break me. So I left the van and proceeded with the same caution I use when venturing away from the side of the pool when in the deep end. I can't swim and I can't stop an accelerating cargo van holding my AC. This might be a suicide mission. Inside the check cashing joint I split my face to monitor the van and the ATM screen. With lightening precision I carried out my banking and power walked back to the van.
At this point I felt pretty good. If they hadn't seized the opportunity to bust out with my box than they must intend to deliver me to my home. These two just didn't strike me as wanting to kill for the adrenaline. Actually any abnormal rise in blood pressure may have killed them both. My joy was tempered with the knowledge that the next phase of this journey would be less dangerous but even more difficult. Phillips and flat head comprise my knowledge of this secret world.
To Be Continued....
Well, out of total desperation created by the distance apart from my brother I was forced into purchasing and installing an Air Conditioner alone. Wishing to curb any backlash from my roommate, I'll point out he was involved on some level.
Recent weather conditions and the presence of only one window in my apartment, that happens to reside in my roommates quarters forced me to make the trip to the appliance store in downtown Brooklyn. Upon arrival it was clear that AC Units would be this day's Cabbage Patch Kids with parents and children jockeying for position around the virtual pile of cooling devices. I was able to catch the attention of a salesmen who had no doubt sensed my urgency to purchase. I'm guessing it was either the film of disgust dried to my face from a day of perspiration, or my credit card being held above my head and twirled between my fingers like a hair metal drum stick that brought him directly.
To this point in my life the extent of interaction between me and these cooling machines was limited to turning one on and off. That being said, my research on what I needed was limited. The salesmen offered me two ways he could hose me. I tried to lock eyes as I clarified that these were in fact the only two models that would fit the description of where I would ultimately house the beast. On this day desperation would conquer intimidation and this veteran of the polyester pants, and sales floor knew I held no advantage.
Once purchased I entered a sea of people all waiting for their items to be delivered by hand cart to the front of the store. Much like the Elephant who is bound by a rope it could easily break but has been tricked into thinking there's no escape, the poor bastard with this hand cart clearly had no idea how brutal his position really was. As I waited I began to hatch a plan of how to get this heavy box back to the apartment. With vehicles at a premium for most people in New York, there is a vultures nest outside of every store that sells heavy or cumbersome items. As a preemptive strike against being accosted I called a car service. They promptly told me that they'd not being coming down there. As I feared, Anarchy rules in this den of unlicensed "cabs". My only hope was that once outside I might catch the arrant yellow cab lost in Brooklyn.
No such luck. My box and I were left for dead on the curb facing Atlantic Ave, thousands of miles from where I grew up on Atlantic St. in a place where a mission like this was an after thought. With dreams of cool air parading through my bedroom wall that night I realized that much like with the salesmen, I was without leverage, and would accept just about any ride offered. It was at this point a broke down looking fellow approached with an antique cell phone attached to his shirt and inquired if I wanted a ride in his van. An inquiry that on any other day or in any other circumstance would have been met with a look of disgust and a negative reply would have to turn affirmative. If he had cellular technology than I would at least look at his van.
Perhaps boarding a cargo van with a couple strange dudes who appeared to live ride to ride wasn't a moment of brilliance, but please do not judge. Once in the back of the van I began texting friends with a description of the van in case I had unwittingly boarded a pirate vessel. As if dude #1 pressing the gas had triggered it I immediately realized I had no cash. My chauffeurs had perhaps never seen a credit card let alone set up a system of payment using one, so any crack of light at the end of this journey had just been filled with caulk that could seal out even the greatest chance for success.
I announced to my captor, er, driver that I'd be needing to stop at the ATM. After three minutes of language barrier I think he understood me to say, "I'm going to give you an opportunity to steal this air conditioner without having to dispose of a body". He must have been over joyed but maintained a calm demeanor. We pulled up at a check cashing joint, which I felt was in poor form since if you intended to make off with my AC you could have at least found me a place to get money where the ATM fee wouldn't break me. So I left the van and proceeded with the same caution I use when venturing away from the side of the pool when in the deep end. I can't swim and I can't stop an accelerating cargo van holding my AC. This might be a suicide mission. Inside the check cashing joint I split my face to monitor the van and the ATM screen. With lightening precision I carried out my banking and power walked back to the van.
At this point I felt pretty good. If they hadn't seized the opportunity to bust out with my box than they must intend to deliver me to my home. These two just didn't strike me as wanting to kill for the adrenaline. Actually any abnormal rise in blood pressure may have killed them both. My joy was tempered with the knowledge that the next phase of this journey would be less dangerous but even more difficult. Phillips and flat head comprise my knowledge of this secret world.
To Be Continued....
posted by Vince at 6:31 AM
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