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A rat in my bed's not the worst problem...

July 29, 2008 2:24 PM

Karson Yiu is a 27-year-old "Nightline" segment producer who grew up in Hong Kong, so he knows a thing or two about what it's like to live in cramped spaces. Or so he thought, until he moved to New York just over three years ago. Karson seems to be prone to real estate horror stories and once considered renting a tiny lofted crawl space only because it had air conditioning. Too bad someone else beat him to it:

"The landlord is tired of your games and wants you out by the end of the month."  That was the voicemail my building's superintendent left me one morning earlier this month. In the two years that I have been in the building, I have never once met my landlord. He communicates with me through the super.  This morning, the message was pretty clear: I had to move out or else I'd be on the streets. Or at least sleeping on the couch at the "Nightline" offices.

I have been a reluctant inhabitant of Astoria, Queens for close to three years -- a renter who initially got chased out of Manhattan by circumstances involving a full-sized rat crawling into bed with me and my own economic inability to find an affordable abode that did not resemble a "Hobbit hole."  Astoria was considerably cheaper ($800 for my room $1450 for the whole apartment), safer and a close enough commute into the city and work that I could still live in a state of denial.

Back in April, my roommate of over two years suddenly told me that he had given up on New York and was moving back home…within the week. Problem was, it was his name on the lease and it wasn't expiring until the end of July. I had been subletting month-to-month since I moved in. The decision did not go over well with our landlord. (My roommate had been in the building longer than I have and hasn't met our landlord in person, either).  Before I knew it, I found myself alone with a reluctant landlord who allowed me to ride out the lease, provided he would get the full rent on time.

With my long "Nightline" hours leaving no time to find a new roommate, and work related travel pending, I had one clear choice: I decided to carry his half of the rent.

When I moved in, I hadn't expected to stay in this apartment for more than year.  It had its flaws –  the bathroom sink backs up black gunk and the wooden flooring splinters, frequently leaving my foot impaled by toothpick-sized fragments. Yet I hung on for two years because I hated moving (Before settling down at this location, I had moved seven times in three cities over 18 months). The apartment was simply an excuse not to look for another apartment.

I figured blessings come in all sorts of disguises and maybe it was time to make my return to Manhattan. I found a fellow Manhattan-exile/Brooklynite, a friend from college who found himself in similar predicament - two of his roommates had decided to break their lease and moved out.  So, we set out to look for an affordable two-bedroom apartment in Manhattan.

It was harder than we thought.

Having both lived in the boroughs, it still took us a little longer than expected (the entire month of June) to realize we were unwilling to pay more to live in conditions worse than we experienced in college. Even with our funds combined, we couldn't find a two bedroom that didn't resemble two closets joined together by a kitchenette for less than $2500. We decided to retreat once more to the spacious confines of the boroughs of Brooklyn and Queens.

With time running out, my faceless landlord actually presented me with a relatively generous offer. He offered to allow me to stay through August if I paid increased rent and an equally priced security deposit, but I had to give an answer within a week.  I told him that I would consider it, knowing that it would be a last resort.

So over the next week, in between stints at the ABC News office, I was full-time apartment hunting. At one point, I visited seven apartments in just over four hours with five different brokers. We ended up the week with applications in for three apartments back in Astoria and our fingers crossed. One was a ground floor duplex for $2500 and two 2 bedrooms in a pre-war buildings for $2000 each. Next comes the mandatory credit checks and hopes that our FICO scores don't come back to bite us. At that point, if everything fell through, I still had the backup plan of staying an extra month at my old place.

Never rest on your laurels.

The next morning, I woke up to two missed calls less than five minutes apart. The first message was from my super, again speaking on behalf of the landlord, asking whether I was going to stay on for August.  Obviously, they weren't too pleased about getting my voicemail because five minutes later, before I had a chance to return the call, and probably not even enough time to listen to the previous voicemail… a second voicemail. They had become "tired of my games" and I was kicked out of my apartment.

We eventually lost one pre-war apartment to other applicants (they slipped their applications in a few hours before us) and the management company of the other rent-stabilized, pre-War apartment decided three days after accepting our application to raise the rent by $400 (it wasn't worth it).  And we ultimately decided against the duplex because it wasn't a good fit (one of us would be without a true bedroom.) Although there was no exchange of money or any formal or verbal agreement, the landlord of the duplex threw a fit and demanded to be compensated for us even expressing an interest in the place or else he would file an official complaint to the State.  We have yet to hear back from him. He probably cooled off.

At the time of this writing, my "kick out day" is just hours away.  I have received the stern follow-up phone calls from my landlord (via the super) that my apartment must be completely clean and empty (me included) by Thursday. They actually woke me up again this morning with another reminder.

This is, however, hardly a sob story. Luckily, I am holding the keys to a handsome 2 bed, 2 bath apartment on the top floor of new construction building, a block from the train in Astoria (rooftop access included). We managed to find it just in time.

My soon-to-be ex-landlord was sort of right about one thing. I too am tired of the games…the games I had to play just to find a place to live in New York.  I'm not planning to trade in these keys any time soon. And I ain't moving.

July 29, 2008 | Permalink | User Comments (3)

User Comments

Posted by: Beto | Jul 29, 2008 3:21:27 PM

Posted by: Jazz | Jul 29, 2008 3:39:23 PM

Posted by: NYJohn | Sep 1, 2008 1:26:34 AM

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