noo yawk 24 hours

hypothetically, a 32 year old virgin agrees to a blind date; the girl sounds cute, an interesting background, knows he can get laid, so he decides yes, only when he meets her she's a meth addict, tattooed everywhere, dirty, but nice, so he goes ahead and sleeps with her. the next day, he can sleep with her again, now he fulfills an obligation but at what cost? maybe this makes no sense, maybe it does, maybe i should quit while i'm not too far behind. how does this story relate to our first 24 hours in new york? to preface, colter and i agreed to sublease a room in a converted school house in bushwick, ny, which to white new yorkers is a scary part of town. one month minimum, craigs list listing, pictures of a stage and bathroom only, we soon found out upon arriving at 6:30 a.m. why the bathroom and stage where the only featured photographs. driving into bushwick on an early saturday morning, to a delapidated, unmarked address, we were greeted by a lovely young girl, about 4'10", with an orange mop top, black tights, an overall/skirt combo who welcomed us with an unnerving perkiness, led us through a trashpile to an empty room save for an alarm clock, a lamp sin lampshade, a bookcase and a bunkbed/loft combo consisting of street dividers and plywood, although architecturally sound with a miniature duo-desk combination and futon mattress. given the time of day, colter and i agreed to share the futon, however ten minutes into attempted sleep, colter's slight adjustment for comfort spiraled into a cracked frame and support beam crashing to the floor. colter braved through and stuck with the futon while i went to ground level and lined up two large suitcases and my south america travel backpack and slept on luggage. we unplugged the lamp to turn the light off and attempted to sleep off our collective nightmare. waking up didn't put us in any better a position as leaving the room required the meeting of new people, one a seemingly normal gentleman, while the other was a tattoo laden individual depending on a four inch bone through his nose to maintain his equilibrium-a mumbler to boot. we got the fuck out. first train ride led us into williamsburg, a stop that delivered a wonderful scent of fried chicken. wandering at first, colter took me to a pizza place he had attended on a previous trip and despite my lack of appetite, it lived up to the hype of a new york slice. somehow we managed to walk into a polish realtor's office and viewed a dumpy, underground loft that we wouldn't have considered hadn't the realtor been a walking hour glass--human nature is human nature. with the thought of spending an evening in bushwick, we began to look for other realtors to help us apartment hunt. we walked into a well designed office off of bedford to one guy on the phone who after hanging up, greeted us by saying "fuckin bitch, hey how can i help you guys?" a busy guy on a busy saturday, we wandered williamsburg for hours, frequenting a local clothing store and sitting at a coffee shop with a nervous stomach before being led to a beautiful, renovated duplex loft. things were looking up. after beginning the leasing process, we needed to return to our halfway house to hand over a deposit check to the realtor. our return was welcomed by new rascals, one of which looked like a typical, white midwestern girl but surprised us when as we left she rocked a puerto rican accent and was selling t-shirts to neighborhood girls on the stoop, presumably stolen goods. speculation of course. delivery of the check and a restaurant recommendation put us at a hip, refreshingly comfortably yet busy thai fusion restaurant called sea. a simple dinner, a few beers for me and a tom collins for colter, yes, make fun of him every chance you get for drinking a menopausal woman's "fun" drink. and then, we were off to our friends' brian and owen's for a night of seeing old friends, meeting new people and escaping in pabst blue ribbon until four a.m. and crashing on what felt like a giant cloud compared to the awkward pointy luggage i slept on the morning before. two hours of shaky sleep and boom, twenty fours hours gone. WE ARE NEW YORKERS. right?