Live-tweeting a NYC apartment hunt (#realworldprobs)

If you’re familiar with house-hunting for a summer internship, you’ll know such an endeavor makes The Hunger Games look like child’s play. But after eventful apartment viewings, plenty of emails, and sheer dumb luck, I secured an apartment sublet in Manhattan. Below, the events of #TheGreatApartmentHunt2013 presented as a live-tweet. And to those still searching, happy hunting and may the odds be ever in your favor.

 

7:02am. Alarm clock goes off (set to play “Call Me Maybe” not ironically). Snooze for ten more minutes because #SpringBreakNoRules.

 

7:42am. Snoozed three additional times. Get up because real life and real estate are calling me, maybe. #SpringBreakSomeRules

 

8:23am. Arrive at train station. Cry about MTA fare hikes and buy an off-peak round trip ticket for $34, or about 18 Twisted Soul empanadas.

 

8:36am. Find a seat on the train. Take out the book I should have been reading all break. Turn to page one.

 

10:21am. Wake up in Grand Central. Still on page one. Oh well.

 

10:47am. After buying a new MetroCard for $11, or two venti white mochas at the Kiosk, reach the Upper West Side of Manhattan. Little dogs everywhere.

 

11:00am. At apartment #1. A beautiful man with scruff and Warby Parker glasses opens the door to an UWS penthouse. His Yorkshire terrier runs to me, starts pawing at my pants.

 

11:01am. Note-to-self: delete my OKCupid account. #FoundTheOne

 

11:07am. He’s subletting the apartment because he and his girlfriend are moving to London. Keeping my OKCupid account. #ugh

 

11:34am. Discussing details: two beds, two baths. North, west, and south exposures. 17th floor. A roof deck great for barbecues. Now that’s a Terrace Apartment.

 

11:35am. $3500/month. Plan to build a roof deck for TA7 instead. @BuzzFeedDIY

 

12:43pm. Take the subway to Brooklyn and emerge from the stop at the new Barclays Center (dammit, gentrification). Feel really URBSy.

 

1:00pm. At apartment #2. A cute man with a hoodie and a French accent opens the door to an office space-turned-loft. His roommate runs to me, starts pawing at my pants.

 

1:01pm. Note-to-self: delete my Grindr. #ugh

 

1:07pm. He’s subletting the loft because he’s moving closer to the MoMA where he works and to NYU where he’s finishing his PhD. Keeping my Grindr. #FoundTheOne

 

1:29pm. Discussing details: three beds, two baths. Only one window. No kitchen. Faces the main street. Well, at least it’s not on the TH path.

 

1:30pm. $4000/month. I mean, it’s still not on the TH path.

 

1:37pm. Wait for the G train. Take out same book as before. Turn to page one.

 

1:59pm. G train arrives. Finished the required reading and wrote the required Moodle post. #fuckingGtrain

 

2:22pm. Get to Greenpoint, Brooklyn. Nice enough neighborhood: historic brownstones, organic grocery, single-source coffee shop… OH THANK GOD A STARBUCKS.

 

3:00pm. At apartment #3. An average-looking guy with a fanny pack and an eye-patch opens the door to a studio apartment. His breath smells like alcohol and he slurs his words.

 

3:08pm. Mention I’m a Vassar student. He says he graduated Bard in the 70’s. That explains it.

 

3:15pm. While the place has no real bedrooms, it’s the entire fourth floor of the building. It gets great light in the morning and has private access to the roof deck, apparently.

 

3:17pm. The roof deck is a roof. Private access to four cable TV dishes and a chimney. Great for death by four-story-fall and not barbecues.

 

3:30pm. Call the man in the UWS and frantically place a bid. He says, no need—the place is mine. Weep with joy.

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