The Apartment: You’re All Winners
New York Diaries. Part 2/5
After Tim was unwell for a few days, he thankfully recovered. I had told my Mum and Dad separately via text that Tim had food poisoning. Dad responded “Oh no, that’s terrible. I hope he is feeling better. Bloody American food?” And Mum answered similarly, funnily enough. “Oh no that’s terrible. Tell him to just eat bland stuff today… Hope you both have a good day”.
Sorry to tell you Mum but as you sent this, Tim was scoffing down a bowl of cheesy vegan pasta at a restaurant we have come to love called Double Zero. The next few days were filled with bike riding around Central Park, visiting the MET and Tim making up for lost time with food.
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Overheard at the MET: “He was a tortured artist”
Tim and I look to one another: “They ALL were!”
Also overheard at the MET: A girl talking to her boyfriend about the art.
The boyfriend: “Ugh! You’re insufferable”
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As we were packing up to leave our pretend East Village apartment, I realised how attached I had become to it. Our morning routines, local coffee shops, the warm lighting in the bathroom, the mirror I would look into as I did my make up. The music playing loudly from the street that had become our unofficial East Village soundtrack. The soft mattress we would sink our bodies into after a long day of walking around the city. The smell of weed. How we could hear the person in the apartment above us through our bathroom air vent. His girlfriend: “This ass isn’t going to slap itself” followed by the sound of hand to cheek. The old school Italian music blaring from the apartment underneath us. Insomnia Cookies from a few blocks away, warm and fresh out of the oven. Late night Two Boots Pizza. “I love being disgusting” I would say as I scoffed down a greasy slice of perfection. Not to mention, Kacey Musgraves hanging out outside our apartment.
We left the apartment with a suitcase full of dirty clothes and happy memories, and left behind the versions of ourselves we were before we came…along with Tim’s used Pepto Bismol bottle in the medicine cabinet.
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As we drove to our new home away from home in Brooklyn via an Uber I was looking out the window like I was a main character in a 2000s rom-com. A girl who was about to step into a new chapter, letting go of who she was in order to become who she needed to be. Basically, I was living that Suddenly I See song from The Devil Wears Prada. The city was dazzling and full of good energy. It was the day of the New York City Marathon. The streets were blocked off and there was a buzz in the air. As we walked around the neighbourhood, it felt like we were on a movie set. No cars on the streets, just people in groups celebrating, chatting, wandering.
Now, let me just say that American enthusiasm is unparalleled. There is a Seinfeld episode called The Apartment which is set around the New York City marathon. Jerry and George are debating who out of the two of them is the bigger idiot based on recent events. Just after George announces himself as “The Lord of the Idiots” a lady watching the marathon from the window yells out to the runners “You’re all winners” to which George then responds “But suddenly a new contender has emerged”. Tim and I were quoting this as we witnessed crowds of people cheering on the runners. We actually saw a sign that said “You’re all winners” and here’s to hoping it was a Seinfeld reference. We laughed about how Australians wouldn’t give two shits if you were running a marathon. I ain’t waiting outside in the rain for nobody…unless you’re Taylor Swift and it’s the Reputation Stadium Tour.
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There was the midterm election today and we noticed lots of people walking around with “I VOTED!” stickers. Tim made a funny observation about how Americans love to celebrate themselves. Not to mention, people who ran the marathon walked around with their medals around their necks for DAYS after the event. Like, we get it. You’re better than us! I suppose I DID go through a cringe phase where I was posting my daily step count to Instagram so I should probably shut up.
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As we got out of the car and our suitcases hit the ground in Williamsburg, the first thing I noticed was how good-looking and trendy everybody was. I went to a cafe called Swallow for a takeaway almond milk cappuccino. I was surprised by the small cup. This has been something Tim and I have discussed over the last few days. The confusion and disappointment that comes arises when I order a large cappuccino but I’m given a small cup, despite the cafe having larger cups available. I need to understand it. All they need to do is add more milk. Tim tried to rationalise the science behind it but I said “This is America! I want a large!”
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We had a rocky start to our time in Brooklyn. We couldn’t unlock the lockbox with the keys to our Airbnb inside. Using our fingers we would align the numbers 0388 over and over again but it never opened. Tim even watched a YouTube video on how to use the lock but we quickly realised it wasn’t a user error, there was something wrong with the lock. The Airbnb host was unable to assist us as he was in the jungle which was very….random (and unhelpful!). Anyway, we ended up having to call a locksmith which at one point was our ‘worst case scenario’ option. This all happened over 3 hours or so. People who lived in the building were coming and going and we were… still there.
When we finally got into the apartment, we were relieved and exhausted. Thankfully, the apartment exceeded our expectations and we were in complete awe. High ceilings, well-furnished, comfortable bed-linen, exposed brick, beautiful art on the walls. Catching the elevator up to the top floor felt very luxurious and I couldn’t help but have imposter syndrome. I made assumptions about the person who lives here and drooled over his candle collection. I noticed the bathroom medicine cabinet was left open (I promise I wasn’t snooping). Before I knew it, I was applying his avocado flavoured body lotion all over my body. Who is this guy? I thought. I later was hanging around his desk and noticed a jade roller stored in his pen holder. Ahh! A girl must live here. That would explain the nice decor and skincare products. (Or perhaps he just has a puffy face from all the fancy alcohol in the apartment.) I thought for a moment about taking a nude photo with his 2021 New York City Marathon medal but I thought that would somehow be against the Airbnb terms and conditions.
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Since then, we’ve already made ourselves at home and made the place disgusting….I mean, we’ve made it our own. Clothes on the floor, my make up scattered across the sink, the bed unmade so it’s easier to snuggle into after a long day. I already know I will miss the warm sunlight that shines through the apartment each morning.
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We are loving Brooklyn and have spoken about how it is more our pace than the East Village. We could really see ourselves living here. We already have our favourite pizza place, which is a grungy pizza shop called Screamer’s. They have paper cups you can fill with water and a dispenser labelled ‘Nooch’ which contains nutritional yeast.
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Drinking my coffee by the water at Domino Park. The cold, crisp morning air. A lot of it is reminiscent of our mornings back home. Slow, the morning sun, an early walk. The familiar blended with the new. A new city, new route, new things to talk about.
