Rats!

That settles it. I am NOT buying a home in NY. Not only do you get crap for $400,000, but the selling closing costs would end up eating up every penny of appreciation you earn owning a home here. You got your attorney cost (~$2,000), your NYC RPT tax (1% of sales price), your NYS transfer tax ($4 per every $1,000), your $75 UCC-3 filing fee (what the heck?), your $750 managing agent fee (because 3% of the sales price just isn't enough), your $500-750 move-out deposit, and your broker commission (6%). And that's for a condo. If you buy a co-op instead, you can add to those collosal closing costs: stock transfer stamps (a nickel a share), lost stock and lease fees, and a flip tax where applicable (I've seen those up to 1.5% for the buyer). Gawd.

So I looked at some rentals today too. I think I spent the majority of my time navigating the subway system. First I took the E over to Lexington Ave (east side) and walked several blocks--(started out in the wrong direction, as usual--Man, I need to get a compass!)--to this neat brownstone on 58th. The apartment consisted of the bottom floor plus the basement. I admit I liked the place, but the bedroom was underground, which made dark, and rather warm. Biggest closet I've seen in Manhattan though! I think I'd be claustrophobic in there. Martin the cat would love the carpeted spiral staircase. But it was several blocks to the subway, (which was conveniently across the street from Bloomingdales). I'll keep looking. At least now I know what $2395/mo. gets you in midtown.

The next was another floor-thru way up on the Upper West Side. (See earlier blog entry for NY real estate jargon translation.) I took the 6 train to the E train (an unusually long wait) to the D train. Whoops--but the D train is an express. I needed to get off at 103rd Ave, but I sat there helplessly, watching 103rd, then 110th and 116th go by.... I got out at 125th and was in Harlem.

I swapped tracks and waited for the A, B, or C train that could take me back to 103rd. That's where I saw it: my first NY rat. Down on the tracks was a big charcoal-gray and brown rat running across the tracks. He headed over to a hole in the far wall, not much bigger around than a 50-cent piece, and as soon as he got there, his little girlfriend rat poked her head out of the hole. They sat there chattering to each other like that for a while (her in, him out). I saw the train coming and expected the rat below to take off when he heard it, but I guess the rats don't fear the trains. He stayed there up till the last possible second when he ducked his head. I would say he made it.

This apartment was nice but small. It was in the middle of renovation, and the brownstone owner herself showed it to me. Very nicely done, complete with bay window, stackable W/D, jetted tub, and pedestal sink. But the neighborhood was a bit spotty (very diverse), and the apartment about 100 sf too small for me and Martin. No place for my "home office." The owner claimed it was "about 900 sf" but she must have been including the ceiling space in that because I'm pretty sure it wasn't much bigger than 700 or 750!

Walked several blocks from 105th to 96th and got on my first NY bus! (Almost got on the wrong bus.) I took the cross-town bus straight through Central Park over to the east side and got off at Second Ave. Wow--figuring out the bus was something I thought I'd do later (the subway system has eaten up enough of my brain power already). But I took the plunge. Fear no public transit, I always say.

I walked several blocks to this 8th floor apartment that ended up looking NOTHING like the obviously re-touched photos in the Web ad for this place. I could tell it was a smoker's home. It stunk. The master closet was less than 3' wide. The view of ugly rooftops was nothing like the gorgeous skyrise view in the photos, which were taken at floor level, not eye level. Man, that's the second time the agent used Photo Shop to lure me in. I got out of there pretty quickly to head to Brooklyn Heights.

I thought it would be fairly straightforward getting to Brooklyn from there. Ha!It took me about 45 minutes! I walked several blocks to the 6 train, which was packed but very clean inside (obviously a brand new train). But this was a local train, so it stopped every five streets. I kept looking at my watch because it was after 2pm, and the next open house was shutting down at 3pm. Boy was I surprised to learn that the 6 train comes to an end downtown, at Chambers St, where everybody must exit the train. I studied my subway map and decided I needed to find a new way to get to the 2/3 train to Brooklyn.

Come to find out later, I could've walked 20 feet, jumped on the 4, gone one stop to Fulton, gotten off there, and transferred to the 2/3. But instead I went all over the universe trying to find the J to transfer to, to get to the 2/3. Navigating the underground subway station maze is key in getting the subway thing right. I failed miserably at this stop. I found myself running right back to the platform where I'd originally got off the 6. I couldn't help but laugh at myself. DUH! One stop to Fulton, and I was on the 2/3, finally. By this time it was 2:40pm, and I was running out of time.

I got off at Clark St. (first Brooklyn stop), in Brooklyn Heights, and walked through the foulest-smelling subway station I'd been inside yet. (Not that there are degrees of foulness in NY--it's all pretty much the same filth everywhere (except the Upper West Side, of course). I have to tell you, while I was traversing all these subway stairs and platforms and hallways, I couldn't stop wondering what germs are breeding on my shoe soles at this point.)

Once again, I didn't know which way to turn on the street when I got above ground, so I asked a guy if he knew whether right or left would take me north on Henry. He didn't know either. I knew I had 12 minutes to get to this open house before the broker split. As always, I started out going the wrong way. He turned left; I turned right. But then he said, "Oh hey, there's the Brooklyn Bridge," and he pointed. I said, "Thanks, that helps!" and I turned around and started running down Henry. I crossed Pineapple St., then Orange St., then some other fruit, and I'd made it to my destination: Cranberry St.

I passed a couple on the sidewalk pointing to their nice red car from across the street, wondering which direction the hit-and-run driver must've come from when he mashed their front quarter panel. Poor people.

This apartment for sale was a $425,000 floor-thru at the top of a brownstone. Gawd, after all that running I had to climb two flights of skinny old wooden stairs (built in 1830, no doubt) to get up there. I envisioned tipping the movers half my savings to get my stuff in if I bought the place.

So I made it in time. This studio apartment was just a tad over 600 sf, based on my calculations using the floorplan on the Web. I asked the agent the square footage, and she said "About 700." Note to self: Not only are pictures re-touched, but agents always round up the square footage to the next hundred or two. Unfortunately, the place looked much better in the photos and was TOO SMALL for Martin and me, so I happily headed back to the smelly subway station to go home. The trip was a breeze. Once you get on the 2/3, you're set, and getting to Midtown is easy. I did my usual transfer to the 1/9 at Times Square (42nd St.) and traveled one more stop to get home.

I picked up my first Sunday NY Times (it's so heavy) at a newsstand on Broadway, grabbed a big latte at Starbucks, and was happy to get home to Martin for some Sunday night relaxation (and Desperate Housewives later!!!!).

My feet are tired; my stomach is growling. Hmmm....I suppose I'll have the usual for dinner: leftover pizza.

So now you know how fun it is getting around NY. It's really not that bad unless you have to transfer at a large subway station that spans several underground blocks and is home to six or more trains. You'd be amazed at how much ground you travel going from one subway to another here.

Still loving NY!