Murphy's Laws of Moving

I won't even go into how the superintendent at my building in Brooklyn tried to tell me on Saturday the 29th that there are "no Sunday moves" in our building and that I'd have to reschedule my move that was planned for the next day - a move that I'd scheduled with him two weeks previously.

What a jerk. I sent him a scathing email response, educating him in the facts of coordinating an inter-state move. I told him that he should have given me the information about the no-Sunday rule two weeks earlier - but because he hadn't bothered to respond to his boss's own request to schedule my move, he'd have to make an exception. Not only that, but I'd sent two follow-up emails confirming my move, neither of which he bothered to respond to.

So it didn't matter what he said. My movers were showing up at 9:00AM the next morning, and he wasn't stopping me.

Although I'll miss New York (terribly), and I'll miss my gorgeous apartment and living in Brooklyn Heights, one thing I will not miss is the lousy maintenance staff at 110 Livingston. The apartment was great, but I averaged 1.5 maintenance issues for every month that I lived there. And getting those guys to respond was like pulling teeth. Ask any resident there - it is frustrating for all. I actually went an entire month without hot water in my kitchen. It took weeks to get my oven working after moving in. My A/C went out on a 98-degree day in July.

You get the picture.

Anyway, I awoke to pouring rain and gale force winds on Sunday. My movers arrived early, which is a rarity in New York City. There were five of them. Good. I'd completed all the packing of 80+ boxes prior to their arrival, so all they had to do was wrap my furniture and load the truck. It took them a little over four hours. Afterward, I had to walk to my storage unit (about 7/10 of a mile away) and meet them there.

But when I stepped outside into the cold, windy rain and off the sidewalk into the first big puddle, I realized that it wasn't going to be a fun walk. As my socks got wetter and my feet colder, I realized that I'd packed all my shoes except this one pair of sneakers I was wearing. Oops. At least I could change socks later.

We unloaded my small storage unit pretty quickly - it was about the size of a large walk-in closet (a suburban walk-in, not a New York walk-in). As soon as they were done, I needed to head to Manhattan to pick up my rental car. I wanted to get the car as fast as possible so that I could do most my driving in daylight hours. My eyes are bad enough (post-LASIK disaster), but driving at night produces horrible glares, and the rain would only compound my vision issues.

I debated hailing a cab, but being unemployed, I chose the subway. I finally made it to Cadman Plaza where I scanned my Metro card and trekked all the way to the 4/5 train. I got to the platform, and the MTA had hung yellow tape up indicating that the 4/5 train wasn't running at this station. Argh. Why they can't post signs before you've swiped your card and paid your fare, I'll never understand.

So I got on the 2/3, thinking I'll just have to hoof it from Times Square to the Budget place near Grand Central Terminal. My subway nightmare began when I tried to transfer to the 4/5 at Fulton Street. Guess what - the train wasn't running from there either. After running around trying to find an alternate route, I approached a surly MTA employee who told me to "get on the downtown J train" then transfer to the 4/5 at Chambers.

If I'd been thinking, I'd have realized there is no 4/5 at Chambers. Nonetheless, I ran around for a good 20 minutes (in circles), trying to find the nonexistent J train. I tried twice to get a woman in an MTA booth to help me, but she was more sullen than the first. Several other people were running around with me trying to get on the right train. It was painful.

I finally said "Screw it," and got back on the 2/3. Thirty minutes wasted. I should have been at the Budget place no later than 2:00, but after all the rotten subway problems, it was 3:00 when I finally showed up.

But despite all of that, and an equally ugly MTA employee on the 2/3 train, I enjoyed the rest of my subway trip after a young fellow carrying a full-sized Christmas tree got on the train with me. He had everyone's attention. He was a cute young guy (early 20's) who not only had this huge, heavy tree, but was also carrying a big plastic garbage bag containing the tree stand and some garland!

I said, "Now that's a first - I've never seen a Christmas tree on a train before," and the rest of the passengers at our end of the car agreed. The subway was crowded, and this guy was somehow holding up this heavy tree horizontally for the entire train ride. A couple of us commented that his girlfriend had better appreciate it! Apparently she didn't think he could do it. He was bound and determined to get that tree home.

Turns out he needed to get to Grand Central, too. He planned to take the shuttle from Times Square. Hmmm. All the time I've lived in NY I never used that shuttle. Good idea! So I told him I'd go with him and help him. I carried the bag while he hauled the tree through the crowded underground passages of the 42nd Street station. Every once in a while he had to stop and rest. I kept offering to help carry the tree, but he was bent set on doing it himself!

Funny, an older couple came by and told me I wasn't holding up my end of the work load! I said, "I tried but he wouldn't listen." They obviously thought we must be a couple - so I explained, "I don't even know this guy - we just met on the train!" It was a hoot. So anyway, I took his picture with my phone and he had me take his picture with his Blackberry.

Anyway, I walked with him all the way to the 6 train at Grand Central and we parted ways there with happy holiday wishes. That was fun! I'm going to miss New York for that very reason - all the wonderful strangers that I get to meet every day there.

From there I walked in the rain and puddles to pick up my rental car, then drove home to Brooklyn in my nice silver Ford Escape to load up the car, pick up Baby, and head south. If I could get out of the city around 4pm, I'd be in Virginia by 9:00 that night.

Ha. Apparently I didn't learn my lesson in July 2006 about traveling on I-95 during a holiday weekend. You just don't do it. Ever. I didn't even realize until well into my trip that it was Thanksgiving weekend, hence the bumper-to-bumper traffic. It took me 2.5 hours to go the first 75 miles. I kept thinking it would clear up, but it was like that all the way to Baltimore, with traffic getting worse at each of many toll booths along the way. It was stop and go for at least 10 miles before each booth, thanks to the thousands of people who think that paying cash at a toll booth is a good idea.

EZ-Pass is the way to go - you just drive through. But 90% of the traffic was going through the cash booths. With today's advances in technology, there's no excuse for lines at toll booths.

I was on I-295 in D.C. with just 16 miles to go when the rain came down so hard that I couldn't even see the road. Just as I'd been given the opportunity to drive the speed limit, I was forced to slow down to a crawl. Finally, the traffic had lightened up. I should have flown the rest of the way to my motel - but no-o-o-o-o-o. It's my usual Murphy's Law luck.

We finally got to Alexandria a full 7.5 hours after leaving New York for the 240-mile drive. It was late, I was exhausted, and my stupid card key wouldn't open up my motel door. Aaagh! I just wanted to get some sleep, and Baby just wanted out of her carrier.

Here I'd said to her, "Now if Martin can go a full nine hours in this bag flying across country, you can do four or five hours." But that was when I'd thought we'd do the trip in normal time. Geez, I lied to my own cat!

She was not happy in that bag. She's no Martin, that's for sure. Moving freaks her out until she sees our familiar furniture again. Martin was so laid back, he didn't care.

Naturally I couldn't sleep in the motel. I can never sleep with so much going on - especially during a move. I had to get up after just a few hours' sleep to meet with my new landlord to do a walk-through of my apartment. After that, I unloaded the car and waited for the movers, who were over an hour late. We had to rush finishing the job. The four of us managed to do the whole unloading in just three hours.

I drove to Reagan airport to return the car. When I was waiting for the Metro train on the platform, I called my dad to let him know I'd completely my move safely. I said, "Hi Daddy, I'm in Alexandria." His response, "What are you doing there?" is just another indicator that I move so often that my own parents can't keep up with me!

Sleep. . . . I need sleep. Bye.