microwave trek

I've fallen victim to perpetually looking at Craigslist for free and cheap finds to furnish the apartment. Yesterday, I went to pick up a microwave which was listed as being in the Upper East Side. It turned out to be more Midtown, but that wasn't going to stop me because it was $10. The $10 was the highlight of this microwave journey. I had no idea how far East 10th Ave. was from the subway stop, so I ended up walking about 10-12 blocks just to get to this CLister's place. (P.S I love looking at people's apartments who live in different areas. Most are extremely small, while others have the perks of air conditioning, or a doorman, or an elevator for about 2,000 more than I pay a month). Anyways, 12 blocks later, I learned I was wearing the wrong shoes. There really are no right shoes in NYC unless you've got tennis shoes on or those shoes they wear in Portland, OR. Blisters popping out from all sides of my feet, I was glad to finally see the microwave. It looked brand new, great for 10 bucks. I asked the CL dude if there was a closer subway to his place and he said Grand Central on 42nd and 7th Ave, so I was happy to hear that.

I picked up the microwave and gasped. This is heavier than I thought it was going to be. I kept on telling myself (cheapskate that I am) "$10. Do it for the 10$). Out I went. The doors were my first obstacle. It looked like I was trying to embrace this microwave like it was a fat person (I could hardly get my arms around the thing). The hard corners of it jabbed into my skin of where my arms bend and I already had sweat pouring down my back as soon as I got outside. Grand Central was a long way from his place. Especially with a 40 lb microwave in toe. Every 1/4 of a block I had to readjust. My hands were slipping from the sweat. People were staring at me. I'd pull my knee up to bump it up when it was slipping, hoping for a place to set my leg, so that I could rest it. The thing was huge and I shouldn't have been doing this alone I realized. 20 minutes later (brief breaks included) I arrived at Grand Central. Oh nooooo! I yelled in my head. This is the station that is huge. To get to my train I basically would have to walk another 3 city blocks underground. NYC blocks are really long blocks. My arms were shaking, I was soaked with sweat, but I had no other ideas except to move forward. I thought about a cab, but I figured I was already there, so I might as well continue. Plus, the microwave would no longer be 10 dollars if I took a cab. Swiping my metro card and getting through the turnstyle, which in this case happened to be the door kind was tricky. Two people helped me swipe my card and move the revolving door. I almost thought I'd get stuck. How could they not have a service entry when I need it most?? I was through, but now I had basically 3 blocks to get to the 3 train. Sometimes, when things are this physically hard, you think you're going to die. My arms had little strength left. I tried to walk faster, but it kept slipping from my grasp. "What if I dropped it at this point?" I thought. I didn't think I'd be able to go any further as I set part of it on a side railing to give my arms a break. An older lady came up to me and started talking and I had to explain to her what I was doing. I knew she couldn't help me. "Dios mio" she said in Spanish. Yes. Exactly. "Dios mio." I continued. I tried to run to get there faster, but the blisters were shouting. I had basically a block left when a tourist guy offered to carry it for me until he got to his train. This was a much needed break. He and his girlfriend were going to see the Statue of Liberty and Ellis Island and in exchange for carrying my burden of a microwave, I gave him solid directions on which train to take and where he should get off. I felt like a real New Yorker despite my trembling arms. We parted ways and I carried the thing down the steps to go uptown. Finally, the train came and I sat it on my lap like an obese baby with lead weights in his diapers. I never wanted to get off that train. I was sitting in the air conditioning and dreading the call of my street number on the scratchy intercom. I looked around at the muscular men who I might be able to ask to help me. One more stop till I had to get off. Panic. What was I going to do? There was no way I could make it. The doors opened and a blast of heat hit my face sending me into a lightheaded wave of misery. I swung my arms around the thing and went through the service door, up the steps and into the light. Nope. This was too much. I rested it on my leg and stood there for a few minutes. People asked me if I needed help, but I said well yeah, it's heavy but...and then they left me there. Finally a tall black man with a good English accent came up to me. Somehow I managed to say "I'll give you 5 dollars to walk this to my apartment." I knew it had to be this way otherwise, I would have stood there on the steps all day. We conversed as we walked. He was much more capable of handling the microwave than I was. Turns out he was from Senegal, Africa and just moved to NYC. "Do you know Africa?" he said. "Do I know it? Yes. Only in studies, though" I replied. Then he asked me if I had a man. "Obviously not." I stated. From this question I knew that I wouldn't open my apartment door until he left, even though he seemed like a fairly okay guy by the time we climbed the 5 flights of stairs. There was no need for him to actually bring it in my apartment anyways. I wasn't a weakling, after all. I had already done all the dirty work (I have bruises to prove it). I handed him a 5 dollar bill, he thanked me and was off.

So, it ended up being a $15 microwave. C'est la vie.

craigslist finds: microwave 10+5, kitchen cart rolled to apartment 15$. sack of potatoes and blender not included