Apartment Quest - Part One
My dad used to tell a story – a man is speaking with God,
and he says, “God – what is a million dollars to you?” God replies, “To me, a
million dollars is like a penny.” The man reflects on this and asks, “What is a
million years to you?” God replies, “To me, a million years is like a second.”
The man reflects further, and looks up at God again, “God,
may I please have a penny?”
God replies, “Sure. In a second.”
Now, as Bill Cosby likes to say, I told you that story to
tell you THIS one….
We’re a family of four (except when my college student
comes to crash on the couch): me and my wife, an eleven year old and a five
year old, plus a Jack Russell terrier. We are not a “quiet” family in any way
shape or form, so the idea of moving into an apartment from our home in the
country was rather scary. We desperately wanted to be good neighbors, so we
made a list of exactly what we wanted for both our comfort and the comfort of
our neighbors. Most of it was standard stuff – a reasonable price, a safe
neighborhood, enough room so that we’re not on top of each other, etc.
Some of the nice-to-haves included a second bathroom,
being either within walking distance of the school or the L, our bedroom not
sharing a wall with the kids, possibly a garden apartment so if the kids
stomped around we wouldn’t be annoying the people below us?
So, armed with our lists of needs, wants, and desires, we
drove up to Chicago for a week to find THE APARTMENT.
We walked around Rogers Park, trying to get a sense of
what was where, and collecting or calling the number on every “For Rent” sign
we saw. Many of the calls went something like, “We’re calling about the… yes
for a July 1st move in… yes we have a dog…. Okay, thanks anyway.” I
don’t know what the canine-Americans did to tick off Chicago landlords, but
whatever it is, they’re not over it yet.
Cats, who stink up apartments, claw holes in draperies,
scratch up doors, caterwaul all night? Not a problem! Dogs are another issue. I
pulled up HotPads at one point and it listed 120 apartments in our are and
price range. I added the restriction “small dog allowed” and it dropped to
three. I kid you not. There’s one apartment complex that not only charges a dog
move-in fee AND an additional monthly dog charge to the rent, they weigh your
dog, and if it’s over 15 pounds, they terminate your lease. Pirate Grace
O’Malley weighs 17 pounds. I suggested a crash diet, but my wife overruled.
So my wife called one place that seemed perfect – it was
advertised as being large, was just a few blocks from the school, and while the
rent was a little high, not having to pay for a CTA pass sort of evened it out.
“We’re calling about the apartment… July 1st… oh (Dave – the one
listed has been leased but she has another available, same building, $300 more
a month but it’s even larger) okay. We do have a small dog – okay great! (She’s
okay with the dog!) Well, it would be me, my husband, and our two children. (I
think she just said “ewww!”).”
Yup. The dog was okay (at an extra $50 a month) but she
wasn’t happy about having children in her building. We walked through anyway,
and it was really nice. The landlady sort of gave us the creeps, but even so, we
were on the edge when we walked outside to talk it over, and there was a
rainbow – a flippin’ rainbow - right up there in the sky as we walked out the
door. I sort of sighed and wrote out the deposit check, and we walked over to a
park to let the kids get out all of the running and screaming they (mostly)
kept in check during our ten minutes walking through the apartment. I mean, you
can’t argue with a rainbow, right?
We’re walking back to the car when my wife’s phone rings.
My wife gives a series of uh huh’s and turns off the phone. “She decided we’re
not a good fit for the apartment, so she’s sending back our deposit check.”
Strangely, we both felt relieved, but our week was over and we hadn’t found an
apartment yet.
So, I flew back up a couple of weeks later armed with a
sheaf of ads from Craigslist my wife had printed out for me. Most of the places
had “just been rented” but there was one that was large, inexpensive, and right
next to one of the major L stops. I walked through, liked it, and put down a
deposit before the other two people walking through could do it. The guy seemed
just a little eager, though, and it bothered me a little bit.
I hadn’t signed anything yet, just put down my deposit to
be first in line, so we tried to figure out why the place was so cheap. My wife
was on Trulia, and pulled up the crime heat map. “Uh oh, “ she says. “You know
how the map goes from green to orange to red? Well, there’s this blood red
color in one spot, and this apartment is right in the center.”
So, I pulled up the Chicago Crime Map and called the
precinct commander at the same time. “My family is looking at leasing an
apartment in your precinct. The crime map is coming up questionable, so I
wanted your opinion. The address is….”
There was a long, long silence. The officer finally took
a breath and offered to give me a phone number for the neighborhood watch. I
told him I was planning on coming back to North Carolina in 48 hours – could he
sort of sum up for me in ten words or less his opinion?
“Get your deposit back immediately.”
As he’s speaking, my internet finally connects, and I see
the actual crimes listed in the area. A rape at gunpoint in the alleyway behind
the apartment at 3pm. Heroin sales at the nearby park at noon. A robbery with a
knife on the sidewalk at 9am. This is *not* garden variety stuff.
I did, finally, get my deposit back. But we still didn’t
have an apartment.
continued...
