The Lighting District

When you tell someone you live in New York City there are two possible options:
1) They don't live in New York. In this case they say, "Oh, where abouts?" and you can say, "Brooklyn" and they will say "Ah! How quaint."
2) They live in New York. In this case they will say "Where?" and you will have to tell them the borough, neighborhood, street address, and notable restaurants that are nearby.

For example if you met someone new at a bar in Manhattan and they asked you where you lived you would say: Brooklyn. "Where abouts in Brooklyn?" Fort Greene. "Where in Fort Greene." N. Oxford. "Oh, you mean S. Oxford." No, no. N. Oxford. "What's that near?" An awesome Halloween party. Then, "Ah! How quaint. My sister lived in Fort Greene 20 years ago." Then you talk about that.

However, out of all of the many neighborhoods and sub-neighborhoods and streets and districts one can be deemed more ridiculous than all the others in New York: The Lighting District.

For those of you who are not from New York, this is not a red light district. No, this is a district devoted to lighting. Light bulbs, light fixtures, light switches, and those light paper lanterns that you see at Urban Outfitters.

It was formerly a chunk of Manhattan. Over time this whole internet shopping thing has caught on and that, matched with greedy developers trying to ruin quaint neighborhoods (see? I do it too) has led to a downturn in the lighting fixture industry's presence in the city. The lighting district is now only Bowery St. between Grand and Broome.

If you do live in New York City you may have stumbled across it as it's inches from all the bars and clubs of the Lower East Side. You may not have realized at all and, in your drunken stupor, thought the Lighthouse a nautical themed club. No, it sells chandeliers.

If you do happen to stumble across the lighting district please buy a light bulb in order to keep these places in business. Preserve historical/ridiculous New York! Or something.

BREAKING NEWS: Another ridiculous thing - a lady gave birth on the L train today. Click here for the story.

DUMBO is DUMB

It's because of stuff like this that Peter Pan left New York City.

Weekend Snapshot

Thanks to Patrick Groneman for taking this snapshot of a sign that probably could be on any piece of realty anywhere in New York City. I bet the realtor still charges a 342598495% fee for this place.

Good shot Patrick Groneman! We remember when you were just a Patrick Growingupboy.

Craigslist ads for shitty apartments

It's impossible to be bored searching for an apartment in New York City. That is, if you're like 13,205,234,835% of the people who deem craigslist the most effective way to get one. The attention grabbing headlines on craiglist.org are pretty great.

Have you checked them out lately? You should. They're all, "THIS APARTMENT IS CRAZIER THEN BRITNEY SPEARS" or "THIS IS HOTTER THAN JENNIFER ANISTON ON THE JANUARY COVER OF GQ."

Yes my real estate devil worshiping friend Jennifer Aniston is still very very hot at age 40-99. But would I like to live inside her for more than a day or two? Debatable. How about saying things like, "This apartment is spacious and while on a 5th floor walk up it's got one small window from which you can see the L train ride by?" I may not click but I appreciate your honesty.

For anyone in the market, by the by, here is one good option.

Inaugural post: realtor fees

To start the greatest masterpiece of all internet New York fan-literature ever I have to touch on a subject that has effected almost everyone who has, does, or ever will live in New York City: realtor fees.

Getting an apartment in New York City can be exhausting. First there’s the mental exhaustion of looking at 132,435,321 places online. Then when you narrow it down to 5 places you want to see it becomes 10 because every realtor has one more place that is “just a few blocks away” that is smaller, darker, dustier, yet supposedly more like what I described to them.

So after weeks of preparation I end up wandering around in circles all over the city because some real estate agent just thought of one more place to show me that I'd absolutely love that's on the other side of some park. Cool. It's like a free guided tour of bad neighborhoods. Plus I don't have to go for a run for a week because I've just walked the New York Marathon.

But then, just when I’ve given up all hope, I find the apartment. Of course it’s more then I want to spend but it’s across the street from one I saw 12 hours earlier which is exactly where I want to be right? That loud humming noise coming from the restaurant downstairs? It’s like the realtor is saving me from buying my own noise machine to lull me to sleep each night. Fine, I’m exhausted, it seems like it’s a good place in a good location. I tell the realtor I’m in.

Now, I've looked at apartments before. I know the deal. My friends in California told me their realtors want 2-3%. But we’re on the East Coast; 5-7% is a bi hefty but if that’s what it takes…

As we approached the realtor office I began to think about the worst case scenario: one month's rent. Ok. I will figure out a way to do that. The realtor probably has little demon children to feed whose tails are growing more out of their pants every day (is that vaguely sexual? didn't mean it to be).

So imagine my surprise when I heard 15%. Fifteen percent!?!? Of an entire year! Are we having a funny moment? Am I supposed to laugh? 'Cause I'm giggling like a maniac. I can’t control myself.

Now I've watched too much dramatic television to not try to play some good cop/bad cop. I turn to my potential roommate who is looking rather pale and say, "We're not paying that." Pretending to appease me she slips into moderator mode. "Can I see your calculator?" she says. The realtor, who frankly couldn't give a shit about my theatrics and is playing with her blackberry, slides it over. The roommate presses random buttons for five minutes of uncomfortable silence before saying, "What about one month's rent?" And so the game begins.

The realtor shakes her head no. Angels cry and flames roar up from below warming my feet. Some back and forth. "This is silly," says I and make to get my coat. The realtor looks at me wondering if I'm really going to walk out. Maybe I am realtor, look into my soul with your demon eyes and see for yourself. Before my head explodes the roommate comes up with a counter proposal that works for Satan's minion: 10%.

Sure I have to call my mom and she has to offer them her first-born child but at least that first born child has an oddly shaped room in a New York City apartment now. And thus I was introduced to how ridiculous New York can be.

photo from apartmentguysofchicago.com