Faces of NYC

My everyday is pretty much the same. I wake up kinda late (I am not a morning person), and check my emails to see if someone replied any of my inquires. Every night I go through Craigslist to see apartments, rooms and etc. Sometimes these people get back to me just after, but most of the people only reply in the morning. In the middle of my replies, I always get at least one scam. I already know all the kinds of scams because sometimes they use the same text with a different name or email (very creative). I even reply to some of them saying: ‘Go to Hell!!’, ‘Stop wasting people’s time??’, or ‘you gotta be stupid to think someone will believe in this stupid scam’. - I know, replying these emails is waste of time, but some scams really pisses me off. What kind of person believes in stories like this: A guy/girl who recently moved to London is offering an apartment in a great location for a very low rent. The person can’t show the apartment, but he/she says you can see the place from outside (WOW!!! Now I am taking the place). If you take the place, the person will kindly mail you the keys after you send your first deposit. — Okay. Really? The person who gives a deposit in this situation really deserves because you gotta be too stupid to believe in it. 

Anyway, my everyday is pretty much the same. After checking my emails I go out to see some apartment. On my way, I get an ice coffee, every day in a different place because I want find the best coffee in the area.

So today I am going to East Village. I spoke on the phone with a French girl who was a bit rude. She asked me a hundred time if I really want to see the place because she does not want to waste her time (neither do I, honey). 

I go walking. The apartment is very close to 1^st Avenue and to the L train. It is very convenient location, and the area is nice. The only thing I don’t like about East Village is that everything is old, and I see many rats on the street. Yuk!! 

I just got to her place, and she is not at home. I call her, and she asks me if I could wait. She asks me again if I am really interested, and I say again: Yes, Marie, I am.  

Marie has a funny accent, and although I know she is French, she sounds like Turkish to me. Maybe her background is Turkish. 

Marie gets to the place. She is holding many plants, and she asks my help. She opens the door, and here I go again to a third-floor walk-up apartment. My butt is going to be great by the end of the month!

Marie opens the door, and I see a very bright living room. It looks a hippie apartment, a messy one. She has plants and clothes all over the floor. It’s awful. It reminds my mom’s apartment. My mother loves plants, but she does not have a balcony. She, thus, hangs her plants on the furniture and windows, which gives a very messy aspect to her home. Marie’s apartment is no different. She says she has been very busy, and she gives some excuses for her mess. I understand.

She shows me the two rooms available. Both of the rooms are very large; however, they don’t have windows. One of them is quite bright because it has a huge French style door. The apartment is actually converted to three bedrooms because It looks like a one bedroom apartment. , The size of the place is okay though. I have been to places that were literally a shoebox (and I am not talking about the room, I am talking about the entire apartment). The place is not a super nice apartment, but it is alright. Marie is a funny and friendly girl. She works for United Nations, and she looks very happy with her life in New York. 

After showing me the entire apartment, which usually does not take too long (Manhattan apartments are not too big, at least not these ones in my budget), Maries starts to talk about her life. She talks a lot. I am so hangover, and I start to feel dizzy. It’s funny the way she tries to sell the room: She says all the bad stuff about the place, and then say: if you really want the room with all these problems, it is yours.

She starts to talk about some rules to be considered by her next roommate. Her first request is to not cook meat. She tells she had an American roommate, and he was very nasty. He used to cook meat, sausages, and hamburgers every night after partying. The apartment looks like a loft, so the smell used to spread all over the place. Gross! She says she loves Americans to be friends, but she doesn’t want another American roommate. They are too messy and too nasty for her. Her accent sounds very funny when she complains. Now I hear her French accent. I really like French accents. It is funny and beautiful at the same time.

After explaining all her rules, she starts to talk about her background, and how used to be her life in France. She is not from Paris, but from a small town in France. She lived in Paris for a while though. She says she loves champagne, and that the best thing in life is drinking champagne and swimming naked in a lake in her hometown. She says people in New York do not know how to live and have fun like the French, especially because she thinks New Yorkers don’t have taste. This sounded a bit arrogant! She, on the other hand, says she loves New York. She has been living in the city for about four years, and  she thinks New York is special because it’s an international city where many young and open-minded people live. I totally agree with her. She asks me how long I am planning to stay in the city, and I say until the end of my practical training, which will be in two years. She then gets back to me saying that she is positive that I will stay at least five more years, or even forever. I don’t know why most of people that I met here always say the same thing. I think it’s because I am always saying that I want to go back. If I wanted to stay, they would say: ‘Noooo, it’s so hard to survive here. Don’t do that!! Go back home!’

After our conversation that lasted about an hour, I start to ask for more details about the place, such as utilities, deposit, move in date, and etc. In the middle of her explanation, she says something kind of funny: ‘You don’t have to worry about the Internet. It’s free!!’. - I ask:  ’How come?’ - She says: ‘Some linksys provides internet for me for free. Sometimes the reception is not too good, but if you go close to the window, it is okay.’ - I look at her thinking she is totally crazy. She is, in fact, stealing the wireless connection from one of her neighbors, but she doesn’t look like she knows it. I honestly don’t know whether or not she knows what she is doing. She even states the free Internet is one of the biggest ‘assets’ of her place. She then says she has many different Wi-Fi providers for free once in a while, and she gives me a list. She probably knows she is stealing, right? Everybody knows linksys is the name of router when it is set up in for the first time. Most of people who does not care about setting up a password, or simply do not know how to do, just leave the original set up letting some smart neighbor like Marie to steal. Stealing Wi-Fi is a very common in New York. I went to some other places where they assumed they do that. They didn’t pretend they think it’s for free because, the true is: someone is paying for that. Honestly, I think this stealing thing is very negative about her place. I am a student from a country abroad, and I definitely need a good Internet connection fast enough to Skype.

Marie does not stop talking, and I have to leave. A friend of mine is waiting for me for lunch; plus, I am starving. I try to find an excuse to leave, but she doesn’t want me to go. Imagine living with this girl! I’d turn crazy with so much talking everyday. She is nice, but no window, no internet, and no cooking…. Hummm… no!! Next!

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While looking for apartment, we have to be prepared to awkward situations. We may meet weird, lunatics, bitches, or every other kind of not so nice people. Of course, there are a bunch of awesome people in New York. Sometimes, some of these aweosome people can turn into a friend even if the apartment does not work out. It happens, at least I heard many stories like that.

I found a really nice post today: a reasonable rent in Lower East Side. Because I’ve been staying in LES, I am starting to love this area. I feel I already know a lot of stuff around here, like restaurants, cafes, and shops. LES is a more underground neighborhood in New York, which does not mean it is a cheap place to live. It is just a cool area in the city where we can find rock bars hidden on some corners. This neighborhood was once the ghetto of Manhattan, and now it’s one of the trendy and edgy areas of the city.

The girl just got back to me. Nice! If you think everyone on Craigslist will reply to your emails, you can die waiting for a response. People who post on Craigslist get so many emails that they have to select the ones they want to reply. Sometimes they don’t even read I think. They just choose by the name of the sender, like: this name is odd, I don’t want to live with someone with this name because I would have to say it many times. 

I just talked to the girl on the phone and scheduled a viewing. Luckly, the apartment is very close to me. It’s actually on the same street, Orchard St, but closer to Chinatown - which is not a good sign. Chinatown stinks. 

I arrive at the place. The door downstairs is open. It is on the 4^th floor, and of course, it is another walk-up building. I almost pass out at the stairs because this might be the 5th apartment I see this week. So tired of these stairs!

I knock the door, and no one answers. I try again, and nothing. Okay, is this some practical joke? Or maybe she’s a psycho killer just waiting for me. OMG! I’m so young to die. No! I’m being paranoiac. She might be in the bathroom or something.  I call the girl, and she doesn’t answer. I think it’s time to leave. Maybe not. I think I heard something. The girl is yelling something from the other side of the door, something like: “Waiiit”. She finally opens the door, but just a little. (Weird) She says: “CAREFUL! CAREFUL!” - Alright, now I am scared. What’s going on here?

She asks me to come on in, but she is afraid her cat will run away. Apparently, her cat runs away every time she opens the door. I open the door, and some small fluffy creature runs out very fast passing throw my legs. The girl starts to scream, and runs just after to catch him. I feel very embarrassed with the situation, especially because it is somehow my fault. I try to help just to be nice, but she says she is okay. She is now cat hunting like a crazy woman. It is quite funny. The cat goes very fast to the first floor, but she luckily gets him. The girl finally comes back with the cat and a mad face. She says sorry a thousand times, and I say it’s okay. Things like these happen. I enter in her place, and we go straight to the room. It is another shoebox with so a lot of stuff all over the place. Damn it! Is it possible to find a nice room? The room is tiny, but has a full size bad that, of course, occupies the entire room. There is no closet and no space to walk. The window is blocked by a chest, and I can barely see the street. I can’t do anything here, but sleep. I think I need a place to study, and study on my bed is not a good idea. It’s clear I don’t like the place, but I have to be nice to her. She asks me a hundred questions, like a cop catching a wasted kid. She is somehow rude, and she still looks mad because of her cat. I want to leave, and she starts to give excuses why I am not a good match for her. What the hell?? Who cares? I don’t want to live here anyway. I hate this kind of people who thinks they are the best people in the world. I bet she didn’t like me because I am not American. She seems these stupid Americans from the middle of nowhere, who comes to New York, but hate foreigners. They are in the wrong place though. She keeps being snob, and saying how intelligent she is because she did hers masters at NYU. Lame! Things get worse when her cat starts to rub me. I love pets, but I am a little bit allergic to cats. The cat then bite my toes. Ouch! Yes, I am wearing flip-flops. I hate this place!! I want to get out of here asap. This visit was a total disaster. It’s Saturday, and I want to enjoy the day, and see some other two places. So I say thank you, but I think this place won’t work out for me. She agrees with me, so we’re both fine. I am leaving, when suddenly, the cat run away again. The girl starts to yell asking for help, but I don’t know what to do. I start to run around looking for the cat. I think he went to the rooftop this time. But what I am going to do? I don’t know how to deal with rebel cats. I never had a cat, and the only cat I had some kind of living experience was my boyfriends’ cat, who is basically a chicken, always afraid of everyone. Thank god she catches  her cat.  I say goodbye. After an hour, she send me an e-mail saying she found somebody else like I really care!! Good for her!!

Coming from Florida where the rent is extremely cheap, I had high hopes to find something great and not too expensive to live. When people first arrive in New York, they believe it’s possible to find a good deal. Nevertheless, one day they realize nice and cheap rents in Manhattan are like unicorns, and do not really exist. At this point, I don’t know about the real situation, and I have to see to believe.

Today I found an ad on Craigslist of a very cheap room for rent in Midtown Manhattan, close to Hell’s Kitchen, but in an area that does not have a name. My sister said this area is not very good because it’s close to the river, and far from the subway. But she also said there are a few new constructions there, so it may be nice. This ad had no picture, and although people say to not trust in ads with no image, someone told me a friend of a friend found a great place in one of these ads. Stories of a friend of friend are always strange, but let’s see.

Today is Saturday, and my sister is off, so she is going with me. I talked to the guy on the phone, he seems okay. I didn’t ask his age, but he might be 30ish years old, I guess. 

We arrive at the place around 3pm. We walked huge blocks, and it is very close to the Hudson river. This neighborhood is very ugly. There is nothing around, no shops, nor restaurants, nothing. The construction is like every other pre-war construction in New York, and of course, it is a walk-up building (damn it). The guy opens the door. He is a black guy, probably in his 50s, with a long  Rastafarian hair. He is wearing sunglasses at home, although his apartment is pretty dark inside. Maybe he is blind. I don’t know. He talks looking at me, and I think he is not blind. He is just funny. We  get in. The apartment is a very old apartment with many stuff all over the places. It reminds my grandma’s apartment, but messy. There are old pictures of his family all over the place. It is weird. He gives us a tour. It is a three bedroom apartment, and two of them are the shoebox style room. He sublets two of the rooms: one for a NYU chubby girl, who in a extremely rude way locked her door when she saw me; and the other that is available right now. The  tiny room available room is furnished, and he wants to keep everyhting there. I don’t want to buy anything, but everything looks old and dirty. There is a full size bed, a box TV, and small fridge where he wants me to keep my food - I don’t want to have food in my room, this is odd. The closet is ridiculously small. I wouldn’t be able to fit even half of my clothes. There is no chance to stay in this place. Hell no!!

We go to the living room. It is a huge living room for New York Standards. It’s not nice though. It smells a vintage store. There is no nice view, and so many stuff around, that we can barely see outside. The guys starts to talk about himself and his life. His story is very interesting. He was born in Bermudas, and came to the U.S. when he was young. His family is apparently a very important family in his country, and he starts to show me many pictures and newspapers from Bermudas. Some other members of his family also live in New York, and one of them have a restaurant. He then shows us a menu of a restaurant, a regular American diner, which is not my favorite type of restaurant. After that, he brings more pictures of his kids and his ex-wives. He was married three times with women from different nationalities, one of them was Brazilian. He says it’s been years he doesn’t see his kids. It’s very sad. It seems they don’t want his to see his kids. He starts to talk about the roommates he had in this apartment. He has pictures of many of them. So many people lived here. This place surely can tell many stories. He has lived there for such a long time that he shows me pictures of roommates who lived there 20 years ago. Crazy!! Most of the time, they were foreigners coming for internships or for school - like me. I think when people come from another country, they do not care where they live. They just want a place to sleep because they’re always around in the city.

After showing his photo albums and telling us the story of every single roommate he had, he starts to ask questions about my background, and why I moved to New York. I do a brief speech that I usually do in this type of situation. Then, he does the same questions to my sister. The funny thing is that he starts to predict my life in the city, what I will do, and how my wants and needs will change in the future. He is not a psychic, and he doesn’t go into details, but I am impressed! I believe he saw so many people coming and going in his life, so many new people coming to New York, so he probably assumes what will happen with these people.

The men does not stop talking, and I want to leave. We might be here for an hour at least. I think some people like to make friends doing this kind of things. There are so many lonely people in this city. It’s funny and sad at the same time. everyone always said New York can be a very lonely city, and now I see it’s true.

My sister finally gives an excuse to go. So, we say goodbye, thank you, and of course, that the place does not fit with my needs at the moment. When we get out the building, my sisters says: “It is so true and so funny the things he said to you. You would never live in this place for sure, but he brought some kind of motivation you really needed at this moment”. It is true because today I woke up feeling sad, and missing my friends, my boyfriend, and my good life in the warm Florida. I don’t feel motivated lately. I have been walking everyday with no perspective in New York, only a school to start, and no place to live. It is tough. This guy, however, encouraged me in someway, and helped me to be here where I am right now. I won’t see him again for sure, but it was an interesting experience. I felt like it was a typical movie scene of a weird guy predicting the future of someone. I start to laugh with my sister, and we start walking to find something to eat. New York is an amazing place that have numerous life stories to tell. Behind these brick walls, we find so many different life stories. Doing an apartment search we get to know the city better, as well as its characters. Today I found another a new character from this city, a very particular one indeed. Odd situations are sometimes very interesting

It is my first week in New York, and I am loving the fact of being here. Sometimes I feel a bit lonely, and miss having my boyfriend close to be. It seems it is the beginning of an end. But life will be the way it should be. We will be together again if it is meant to be.

Although I am still trying to adapt to the city’s lifestyle, I can’t live in my sisters forever. Thus, I have to start my apartment search asap. Before looking for places, the first thing to do is choosing an area to live. There are four different boroughs: Manhattan, Brooklyn, Queens and Bronx. Queens and Bronx are crossed from my list already - too far from my school, and too dangerous for a young girl. Brooklyn seems cool, at least the Williamsburg area, where I went to a bar once. Still, it is not very close to my school either. I guess Manhattan will be. Choosing to live in Manhattan is just the beginning because the island is full of different neighborhoods for every kind of people in the world - yes, in the world. A friend of mine showed me some places I shouldn’t even look for apartments since they are not very safe, so the very up of Manhattan is also crossed from my list. The best way to get to know a place is going out and about in the city. I, thus, decided to take a walk in West and East Village, passing by Greenwich Village aka the Village, and stoping by the Lower East Side - where I am staying by the way. These neighborhoods look perfect to me, but I am not sure if the rent fits on my budget. Anyway, I still have to walk around Uptown, which includes Upper East Side, and Midtown. I’ve been only in the touristic areas over there, and I don’t know how these places are to live. Yet, I am pretty sure I won’t like to live close by Times Square - it smells. 

Another day starts, and I have my first apartment appointment in East Village. East Village is litarelly next to Lower East Side, and there is no subway to go from one place to another. Although it is more than 20 blocks away from my sisters, I decide to go walking. The weather is nice, so it is also a way to discover new places in the city. I still feel like a tourist, so I take my camera with me.

I get to the apartment. East Village is a nice neighborhood if you’re young, and like to party. The place is surrounded by bars, restaurant and young people. The roommate living in this apartment, however, is not that young. She is a woman in her late 30s, but she looks 45. The place is nice, renewed and clean - great. It is a 4th floor walk-up apartment though - it can be god to my butt by the end of the year. The room, on the other hand, is not that nice. It is a small shoebox that fits a twin size bed only. No space for a closet for sure. Sound ridiculous, but she is asking $1,100 + utilities/month. The room is actually a dog’s room adapted to a possible toddler room, and she wants to rent it to an adult. I am not sure if she thinks I am stupid or what. Maybe it is because I am a foreigner new in the city. An American person who knows New York very well would never take this place.

The lady asks me to sit to chat for a bit. She asks a few questions about me, and then starts to talk about herself. She looks lonely, and her plans for the future sounds totally crazy. After hearing her story, I realize her overcharging situation is a result of her financial issues. She is unemployed and have the mortgage of this place to pay. She used to have an art gallery, but according to her, she had to shut down the place because of the recession. She never studied art, and before having the art gallery, she worked with something else. Now, she wants go to law school just because she is very good in suing people - like the Mc Donald’s coffee lady. She is not looking for a job, and the law school is just something she has in mind. She is not sure about that, nor about her future. Although she is almost 40, her mother supports her, and she is not even thinking of getting any job.

I start to think that living with her would be like living with a big spoiled kid who doesn’t do anything besides renting a shoebox for me. This aspirant roommate is so obnoxious! I can’t stop thinking how long she would take to drive me insane in this place. She then says: “I am having such a trouble to find a roommate!!” - What a surprise, lady!!

It’s time to go. I am leaving her place a little upset as I start to think this apartment hunt will be tough. At the door, she kindly asks me if I can take her recycled garbage down stairs because she is tired, and I am going down anyway. I say okay, although I think this is an absurd. I know, I am a nice person. It is just recycled, so it is not too gross. With no common sense, the lazy lady asks me to take her other garbage as well since I taking the recycled one. She then closes the door. I am in shock. Some people don’t have limits. I understand some people don’t have manners, but this almost 40ish years old lazy lady is getting on my nerves. I take the garbage, and leave in the middle of the hallway - I don’t give a shit if someone will complain. I won’t enter in a garbage room full of rats to throw away a trash that is not even mine. She is probably looking for a roommate to be her maid. First the garbage, then the dishes and the bathroom.

I am not seeing any other apartment today. I am still in shock. I am leaving my next one for tomorrow morning.

Later in the evening, I get an e-mail from her saying she loved me - sorry, I did not!. I don’t reply, of course. Next days, she continues to send me several emails asking if I am  still interested I don’t remember saying I was interested at any point of our conversation. Because I am seeing many other apartments, I accidentally reply to her thinking it is another girl. Damn it!! She gets back to me instantly, but this time I ignore her. I definitely do not want to live with the white trash lady. Good luck, bitch!!!

When moved to New York, I knew I’d had a lot to do before getting myself established in the city. Like everyone new in New York, the hardest thing in the beginning is apartment hunting. Finding a nice place to live in NYC is tough job; no matter how much you’re willing to spend. In my case, things are even harder as I came to go to college for the second time in my life. Most of people already know NYC rents are extremely expensive. Landlords are always ready to rip you off. Its square footage price is probably one of the most expensive in the world. The rent of small shoebox apartment may cost $2,000, and a decent sized apartment won’t be less than $3,000. Of course, as a student, I was not planning to live in a so-called luxury condom in Manhattan (believe or not, luxury in Manhattan means buildings with doorman and elevator, sometimes a small room called gym. If you’re lucky, you may find a bathtub on the rooftop, and having access to the rooftop is also another luxury thing in the city). I can’t even afford a rental of a studio. It’s unbelievable. Because I know only a few people living in the city, and all of them already have their own places, my only choice was looking for rooms for rent. Where? Guess what? On my new best friend in the city: Craigslist. Craigslist became now my main tool for my apartment search. In the beginning I was afraid of meeting crazy killers we used to hear in Florida - just to remind you: people in Florida are frequently bored, and create horrible stories about people living in big cities, especially New York, a place they deeply hate.

During my Craigslist search, I didn’t meet any killer - Thank God! - but I had some reeeeally funny stories about many interesting people met. These people are like characters hiden behind the walls, or maybe, behind the Craigslist posts. I saw a diversity of people living in many of these Manhattan shoeboxes. It was, and it has been, a great experience. It is also an excellent way to see how is the New York lifestyle in the real life - no glam for sure, babe. Hope I find a nice place with normal roommates (and trust me, it’s not that easy to find normal people around here). You might be thinking now: Oh jeez! What a wek!. well, you will understand on my next posts, ha!

This is the day I was waiting since 2008. The day I am moving to New York. I decided to move to New York a few years ago just to go to a fashion school. Most of people were against it, but I didn’t listen to them. I worked hard for it, so here I am moving to this big competitive jungle. It wasn’t something easy considering I came from another country speaking a really bad English. I had to stay one year in Florida in the middle of nowhere just to learn how to speak, write, and understand English. (It wasn’t that bad. Living in Florida was an amazing experience. Plus, I look super tan!!!). Finally, I am here, on the road, going to the airport on my way to New York City. My boyfriend is driving. He is happy for me, but he doesn’t look excited at all. I am very excited, but I feel very upset for leaving him. We had a great time living together. He drops me off at the airport. We are super early. I have tons of luggage, and they want to charge me $200 for extra weight. As a poor student, I leave some of my unnecessary stuff to him (and to the airport staff). It’s time to go. I can see his face looking at me while I cross the security. He is crying. It seems this was our last time together. I want to cry, but I am too excited to go to New York. Plus, the security just stopped me because I forgot to take my laptop off my bag (officers don’t have feelings). During the flight, I try to sleep, even though it’s only a 2 hours long flight, but I am feeling too anxious. Unfortunately, I am traveling with American Airlines, and there is not TV, movies, or some other kind of entertainment. My only choice is my iPod. I wish I was traveling with JetBlue. I love their TVs!  A very sad song starts playing on my iPod, something that reminds my boyfriend (something saying, “I am traveling over the sea and thinking of you”). I didn’t even know I had this song, it’s something from an indie rock album I downloaded a few months ago. I never listen to the entire album. Yet, it’s perfect for the moment. I put it to repeat just because I feel I should cry a little bit (I haven’t cried since I left, and I feel bad for it). The guy next to me thinks I am strange (of course). I arrive in New York (I am not crying anymore. I am very happy indeed). Now I have a mission: carry 3 suitcases by myself. I hate waiting for my luggage. I always feel it will never come, and that I’ll be the “luck” person to have the lost suitcase of the day. I am always scared because it always takes forever to come - maybe because I always do the check in very early. First come, last serve. I am usually the last passenger to take my luggage, and I hate that missed suitcase feeling. 

Got my suitcases (I wasn’t the prizewinner this time), and I am on my way to the shuttle van. The shuttle van was my sister’s idea. She said a friend of her got this van, and it was much cheaper than cabs. I guess he didn’t tell her the van could take hours to get to the destination. The driver is a middle-eastern guy who speaks a very poor English. He was nice and helpful, but we had to wait hours to get off the airport. We get off from JFK, but for some reason he goes to La Guardia. The other 10 passenger of the van starts to complain. Nice, there is a big fight going on like we were at an Oprah’s show. He doesn’t understand what the passengers are claiming, so the discussion does not make any sense. I am too tired to think about it, so I just observe the traffic around. I start to talk to a guy seated next to me. He is from California, and he is just visiting a friend in New York. The driver stops to drop off a very arrogant woman who was complaining about the driver and the van all the time. The driver asks for her receipt, and she doesn’t have it. She says she paid on the internet, he doesn’t believe, so we stay 30 minutes parked in the middle of a midtown street while they have a fight. The van creates a chaotic situation, and I feel embarrassed to be on this van.

I’ve been at least 3 hours on this stupid van, and I can’t stand it anymore. It’s literally taking forever to go to the Lower East Side. We are in East Village, and I tell the driver we are very close to my destination. He doesn’t know the street I am going. I tell him to use his GPS, but he apparently doesn’t know how to write an address on his GPS. He says he is going to drop off someone else in West Village, and I’ll be the next. I can’t believe he is doing that! I start to discuss with the guy, but he doesn’t understand. His answers does not make any sense. He doesn’t listen to me just because I pronounced Houston street like Houston city (grrr). It’s like discussing with a deaf. I give up. I am the last person on the van. He asks me for the address. I write it down on his GPS (he really doesn’t know how to do that, and he is a driver). I finally get to my sister’s apartment. Yes, now I am in New York City, babe! Say welcome to me!