(I Move Several States Away) With a Little Help From My Friends

(photos taken by Mica, who was smart enough to know we'd probably want the whole thing documented)

sad me with our life in a truck

WB and I on our old stoop, for the last time...

the microwave goes in the kitchen?? what?? shocking!

So we're here, safe and sound, and actually have been for a whopping three weeks (what??), all three of whom have disappeared into the nebulous cosmos somewhere because I certainly don't remember them. They were most likely a whirlwind of crying, unpacking, the search for the perfect shower curtain, more crying, and then maybe some crying. After that, I believe I cried.

But we're here, and the apartment is wonderful and WB and I have each other, which is the most important part of all. We also have the most amazing friends - on both sides of the mason dixon line - without whom we never ever could have done this. We had friends helping us through every stage of the process, from packing, to kidnapping me while packing and spiriting me away on an adventure involving lunch and the central park zoo, to the actual moving day (in which I would have lost my shit completely were it not for said friends who lovingly took over the entire process and forced me to sit and watch the truck as they hauled our life down 5 flights of stairs) to the unloading here in River City, Dixieland, as well as the unpacking, and the providing of watermelon and hugs to the freaked out pregnant lady. Our friends realy must love us or be very well paid by my parents, because they carried us so beautifully through the whole process from start to finish, all the while indulging me in my hormone induced fits of crying. That's friendship for you.

Moving day itself began on a rather ominous tone, as we were rear ended en route to pick up our moving van way the hell out in the Bronx. It was really such a minimal impact that the most damage it did was to my anxiety level, because of course I was terrified that the seat belt tightening below my womb would cause a miscarriage. Luckily I was wearing the seatbelt correctly, but of course it still scared the pants off of me. And that was just the begining. We had yet to even arrive at the U-Haul from hell.

Let me tell you that the customer service at the Riverdale U-Haul is, oh, less than stellar. Sp much less than stellar that the woman behind the counter could only have been ruder had she spit on us, which she was probably about to do had we stayed there 5 seconds more. The wait in line from the time of arrival onward was an hour...an hour people! there is no need for that! The U-Haul people are not building the trucks, they're just filling out the damn paperwork to rent them out! The worst blow, however, came when WB went to hand in his driver's license to complete the process. WB is from Puerto Rico, and he has a Puerto Rican driver's license. WHICH IS TOTALLY VALID IN THE UNITED STATES! Puerto Rico is a territory of the US! My father was able to out him on the driver's insurance of his car with a Puerto Rican license! Everyone knows this, clearly, except for U-Haul, who would not rent the moving van to WB.

I was less than thrilled about the prospect of driving a 10 foot truck for 7 hours, especially considering I had only slept for 2 hours the night before, so needless to say I asked to speak to the manager. The girl told me "He's outside". I has been waiting outside during the hour long wait in line (to refrain from screaming like a madwoman), and has seen the manager outside. With a bluetooth thingie stuck in his ear, talking on the phone. So I replied "Yes, I saw him outside, and I know he has a phone. So I'd like you to please call him on that phone and ask him to come in here to discuss this with me." She refused, claiming she didn't know the number, and besides, her "supervisor" had said it wasn't doable. That's when I started writing down names, or at least attempting to...our lovely lady behind the counter also refused to give me the name of her "supervisor", saying "She's right there, ask her yourself." Finally WB and Shaby-baby had to calm me down, before we were given the worst truck in the lot.

I did have one little lovely moment of revenge, however, when the rude rep told us that our 10 inch truck was ready. WB and I started laughing out loud, and he asked "Our 10 inch truck?" and she said, with quite the attitude,"Yeah, that's the size you ordered". I said "I don't think that's the size we ordered, at all. " and she said "Yeah, it is! It says right here, a 10 inch truck. That's what you ordered." and WB asked again, "Are you sure its a 10 inch trcuk?", as we continued to laugh the entire time. Rude Rep was more than a little peeved and said "Yeah, I don't know why that's so funny, cuz that's what you ordered!". I finally stopped laughing enough to say "No, I really don't think that's what we ordered. A 10 inch truck would only be about this big [showing the size with my hands]. I think we ordered a 10 foot truck." Rude Rep got all huffy and puffy and thoroughly embarassed and could only reply "Whatever." Revenge is sweet indeed.

A million thank yous to everyone who helped, even when they had shows to run to afterwards, and jobs waiting for them, and law papers to write. You are all wonderful people.

And now I must post this or it will never get done, its overdue enough as is.