Just as the thought of blog-retirement crossed our minds, a few significant New York moments slapped us sideways.
We’ve been toying with the idea of officially hanging up our boots since Manhattan became a way of life for us. We’re now so ingrained in American society you may was well call us ‘Yanks’. We use their lingo, (essentially to avoid quizzical looks), and we’ve adapted to their foods, (backed-up by a steady supply of Vegemite and Milo thanks to globe-trotting Aussie mates). Riding the subway with crazies has become second nature to us and car ownership is a distant memory. We don’t trust cops, (power-tripping doughnut-munchers), and we don’t think twice about slipping on an ankle-length puffer-jacket in winter. To be honest, we no longer feel like authorities on the quirks of living in Manhattan . Our blog entries risk presenting a narrow-minded opinion so far removed from the stark contrast of living in Australia . We are New Yorkers. This is now our life.
Once in a while, however, a ‘first’ occurs. This month we’re attempting to sign our ‘first real lease’. Yes folks, we’re moving AGAIN, this time to our final resting place. (Assuming our extensive file
of proof-we-are-good-tenants flys). Our landlord has requested a month’s worth of information-chasing. Passports, visas, social security cards, employment references, personal references, previous landlord references, every single bank statement from every account and credit card we’ve opened since arriving in the US, old tax forms, new tax forms, prior utility payments, prior subleases, prior main leases, pay stubs, personal bank letters, and last of all a hefty $550 deposit, non-refundable if we don’t score the apartment. As the situation stands, we have 3 days before we’re homeless. We still haven’t been formally accepted as tenants and the stress is beginning to crank through our systems. Aaagghh , New York …. Why do you make everything so difficult?
Definition of Distraction: 5 Aussie mates are coming to visit this month. Princess, John, KB, Dresa and The Hoff. So we’ve been busy and happy, at least until they boarded the plane home. We're soon to be left with our collection of found furniture, a few too many backpacks and a pile of books on our newly claimed corner of Central Park West.
It’s time to retire the cynic in me now and move onto some exciting tales……. Actually, I’m too deep
in New Yorker mode. I’ll leave Dave to write about Manhattan’s top restaurant, playing basketball in Madison Square Garden, and a secret celebrity gig.
Come to think of it, Dave will never get around to writing anything, the poor guy is so busy. I'll let the pictures tell the story.
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