This evening I took out my friend Constantine to look at some two bedrooms on the Upper East Side. If you're on a budget but still want to live in Manhattan, then it's the place to go, especially on First and York Avenues.
This is a very busy time of year for real estate agents, and even if you get keys for a place, chances are someone is going to call you to take them from you. This afternoon as I was finishing off dinner at a diner on 89th Street (my first real meal of the day, since granola bars don't count as a meal) when an agent called and tried to get some keys from me. It turns out that we were headed for the same open house at 6:00 p.m., so I told him to meet me there and we would hash out the key issue.
It turns out the agent that called me was a guy named Sam that I was in training with. He and I even took a lunchtime trip to Sephora once. For a guy, he knew an awful lot about hair products and salves. He came along to one place with us after the open house and then we parted ways.
About an hour later I got a frantic phone call from Sam. He and his client went to see a place on 92nd and Lexington and they got locked in the apartment. He wanted to know if I could come by the place and try to open the door from the outside. After all, he could buzz me into the building. Constantine needed a break from looking anyhow, so I left him at a bodega on 94th Street and hopped up to Lexington.
Not only was Sam stuck in an apartment, but it was on the top floor of a six floor walk up. I know what you're thinking: six floor walk ups are technically illegal in Manhattan since all buildings over five floors should have elevators. I thought this was the case, but after this evening I can assure you that six floor walk ups do, in fact, exist. And apparently people get stuck up there.
Sam slipped me the key through a hole in the door (this place was such a dump) and sure enough, it didn't work. The lock was broken. Sam ended up climbing out the fire escape down to the street while I fetched the super from his apartment, and apparently large family, down on the first floor. The look on his face when I told him people were locked in an apartment was priceless. The he turned around and picked up a screwdriver, presumably to take off the lock.
I then hopped back down to 94th Street, where Constantine was enjoying a soda. We resumed our own tour of walk ups, but no one got locked in.
And you thought the Upper East Side was civilized? Ha!
