Dear Frances

June 1st 2009

Dear Frances, I’m here!!!

I cannot believe it. I keep pinching myself. Waldo met me at the airport. He was about two hours late. I was trying not to freak out. I suppose I could have taken a cab, but he insisted the gypsy cabs were cheaper. He took three trains to get here, just to show me how to take a gypsy cab home. Hmm. Seemed stupid, but I couldn’t seem ungrateful, we were about to be roommates. I could have been in the city long ago, but that’s ok, I live here now!

I live in New York City! How can I be upset about anything, really?

The room Waldo promised me has a bed, desk and chair in it already. Yay! This is a steal for $600. There is another roommate, Jeremy, who is at his girlfriend’s tonight. I guess I meet him later. He’s a hip hop dance instructor. Already I am surrounded by artists! I love it! Waldo is a tech director at a small theatre in lower Manhattan. They call it LES, or the Lower East Side. My people!

I know New York apartments are small, but there is no living room. Does this seem strange to you? It’s just a kitchen, bath and three bedrooms. The black and white checkered floor has tiles missing and some places were worn through, and there are only four cupboards. I wonder where we put the food? I’m sure I’ll figure it out. I’m trying to take it all in.

I am so excited I could pee myself. Waldo was tired and really wanted to go to bed, but I promised myself a glass of champagne the first night I landed, and officially a New Yorker!

We walked for a long time before finding a bar. It almost seemed like he didn’t know where he was going. I was rather surprised. Also, nothing was open. Where was the city that never sleeps? Haha. I guess it was midnight.

We finally found a bar with one patron in it, and the bartender was annoyed we wanted a drink. Then he was really mad I asked for champagne. Sheesh. I had a beer. Oh, well. I should have had a Miller High Lite, the champagne of beers! But Waldo ordered me an IPA. I really hate IPA’s but didn’t want to be ungrateful. IPAs are like drinking lawn shavings. I didn’t finish it.

We walked home and it was surprisingly quiet. It was really dirty too, trash everywhere. But hey, that’s New York, right? I have no idea how I will sleep tonight! Give my best to everyone in AK, and let them know I landed safe and sound.

Love and miss you!

Kari

June 3rd 2009

Dear Frances,

Waldo took me into the city yesterday and sort of showed me around. He lives eleven blocks from the subway. Not eleven Anchorage blocks, but like big city blocks. It’s about a twenty-five-minute walk. I was not really ready for that. He could have warned me. I am getting suspicious of how much Waldo really knows this city. I am suspecting not much. I kept looking for the subway rats, but so far nothing. Slightly disappointing.

I brought my computer so I could start looking for jobs. I should have asked for a small one when Corey and Kevin were helping me shop for it. It feels like it weighs about a thousand pounds. Especially after hauling it eleven blocks to the subway, up and down about four flights of stairs, and then another dozen around lower Manhattan. My fault for saying it would also be my TV for watching movies. In hindsight, I wonder if Kevin did it on purpose after I broke up with him. When he transferred all my info from my desktop to my laptop, he named the file Bitchita. Dumb. Whatever.

After walking me in circles, Waldo went to the theatre and set me free.

I found a coffee shop. It had started raining so I ran in with all my shit in tow. It was super cute and the guy at the counter was flirting with me. Win. Win. I set up in a corner and got the Wi-Fi password, it’s “dolphin lover”. I am now crushing on the barista, I have a hot mocha and life is good.

I started looking on craigslist for serving jobs. Get this. They all want headshots. For a serving position. I am really annoyed. I’m not an actor; I’m a producer looking for a waitress job. I have been sending out photos of me with a big slimy fish in my hands standing in a creek. Fuck ‘em.

Two hours pass, and I am not having much luck with the jobs and am feeling peckish. I get a bagel. Duh. It’s amazing, just like they say. I know it’s only one o’clock, and I don’t usually drink in the middle of the day, but why not? I go back to the counter, for the third time, which now seems too many times, and I order a glass of white wine. I hope the barista doesn’t think I am stalking him.

I really want to explore the city, but this behemoth of a laptop is going to slow me down. I decide to go back to the apartment. It takes me almost two hours. I did get on a train going the wrong way, but figured it out pretty quick. Oh, yeah, they all call them trains here, not subways.

I got home dropped my luggage and tried to find a grocery store. I walked around for another forty minutes and did not find anything that resembles a grocery store. I give up, get some cheap tacos from a bakery and go home. Street tacos are only $2.50 each! It then dawns on me nobody cooks here, hence only four cupboards.

I am sure it will take time to get settled, find work, and figure out the neighborhood, etc. Its still pretty damn exciting. Doing my best not to spend too much money. Bleh. I suck at that. How are rehearsals going? I’m so happy you were cast! When do you open? I will never be able to afford to come back, but break legs!! By the way, its hot as hades here.

Love ya!

K

June 15th 2009

Dear Franny,

Sorry I have not written in a while. As you may have guessed I got a job! It took over two weeks. Longest ever for me. I think it will be a good fit. It took a week for me to figure out I had to eliminate the fact I am from Alaska. They kept saying to me, “oh, no NY experience, sorry.” Ten years of fine dining and a wine distributor did not impress them; unless it was in New York. What a crock of shit.

Once I took Alaska off my resume, and stopped sending the pics with me fishing, I got an interview at The Knick.

The owner was at a table not even looking up and anyone. He just held his hand out waiting for the next resume. I stuck my hand out and waited for him to look up and make eye contact. He was embarrassed, smiled and shook my hand. I pretty much had the job after that. We both knew I had more wine experience than he did, and I was about in the middle of the age range for servers. Thank fucking god they hire mature servers in New York. It’s a senior house, which means I get the sucky shifts and sections to start, but I don’t mind. Food is good, its smack dab in the middle of Greenwich Village and they are busy every night.

New developments on the home front. Jeremy teaches hip hop, but he listens to house music, which can barely be called music. So, I hear ents, ents, ents, pounding through the walls, daily. I seriously want to blow my brains out. Worse, is Jeremy is really, really, nice. I just hate his music. Fuck. Waldo is never there; he keeps going back to Alaska. He gets homesick about every two minutes, I am not sure he is cut out for New York, also, we have mice. And I am not certain its bed bugs, but something is biting me and leaving red marks all over my body. I asked Jeremy’s girlfriend about it. She told me it was fleas. Fleas. Half a step up from bed bugs, which are a real thing. I thought they were made up.

I see stray cats, or rather hear them outside my window, which is on the ground floor, and very disconcerting. One night I saw a man directly outside my window. I about had a heart attack. I closed the window and shade, and made Jeremy go outside and scare him off. There are wrought iron bars on the windows but still. Fuck me. Still no subway rats.

June 20th 2009

Dear Franny,

Happy Gay Pride! Oh my god, I just saw the most amazing parade I have ever seen in my life. I was at work on a double and it was slow so they cut my second shift and the parade was just a block away! I could hear the music from my restaurant and I just started running like a crazy person.

I have never seen so many beautiful men in my life. Some in huge gowns, most in next to nothing. All dancing, covered in glitter and having the time of their lives. I took a million photos; I will send you a few. It was just awesome. Highlight for sure.

Can’t wait to make some friends here. I get done working and want to be social, but so far naddah. I guess it takes time for these people to warm up. Of course, I am super broke too, so can’t really afford to go out. Haha!

Congrats on your reviews! I knew you would kick ass. I have never read Becky’s New Car, but I will look for the script. Chat soon! XO

K

July 19th 2009

I have given Waldo notice I am leaving. This place is a dump. On one of my few Waldo sightings he brags to me that all of the furniture in the house he found on the street. The street, Franny. My bed was leaning on a light post somewhere, and he drug it home. I about had a heart attack. I’m not a germaphobe, but Christ. On the street? I live in the bed bug capitol of the world, and I am sleeping on a used mattress. I don’t even know what to say.

I am done living with twenty-five-year-old men.

The fleas have gotten worse and last night I was almost attacked by a racoon. I am not kidding. The mice problem was getting out of control and we had traps everywhere. I was woken one night to a squeak, and tip toed into the kitchen to find one half in and half out of a trap. I grabbed the closest thing to me, which happened to be a National Geographic magazine and beat him to death. The irony was not lost on me with the magazine. I do not care.

Last night I am woken up to the crunching of tortilla chips from the kitchen, and I am alone in the house. I cannot stand listening to anyone crunching chips, and this little mouse sounded like five people eating chips. No idea how he got on top of the fridge or in the bag, or be that loud, but he was. I walk into the kitchen and he freezes when he realizes he’s not alone. I then quietly open the front door and in one quick motion I grab the back of chips, with the mouse inside and fling it out the door and slam it shut. Problem solved. I am feeling rather clever that I got rid of him so stealthily and go back to bed.

I am back in bed, door closed when I hear the rustling of the chip bag, and then a low guttural growl. I am like what the actual fuck. I am back in the kitchen and turn on the light. From the kitchen window, which is open cuz its hot as fuck in New York in the summer, I see two yellow glowing eyes, staring directly at me. The growling is continuous. I can see the stripes of the racoon and the chip bag in his hand. I also see that just a screen separates us. Racoons are aggressive little assholes, and I know he can get through that screen if he wants to. I slowly walk to the window, not taking my eyes off him, and shut it as fast as I can.

By now my adrenaline is through the roof. Frances, never in a million years did I expect to be threatened by a racoon in Brooklyn, New York. That was the last straw.

I was done with house music, done with the plaster falling off in the shower, done with flea bites and done with the fucking wildlife in the kitchen.

Waldo was heading back to Alaska when I told him. He was super mad. I told him I would pay through September but that was it. It gave us both two months.

After he left, I happen to notice the bill from the landlord on his wall in his room. $1500 for the apartment. I paid $600, Jeremy paid $500 and Waldo only paid $400. I was flabbergasted. I never thought for a minute we weren’t all paying the same. What a jackass. Can you believe that shit? And were both from Alaska!

By the way, I found a cheap studio I can rent to produce my first show. It’s called Shetler Studios. It’s really a black box on the twelfth floor of some office building, but we are on 54th and Broadway! I’m so close! I am still working on the logistics and securing rights from Ellen and Schatzie. I figure having something produced in the city is payment enough, right? Lol.

I also learned the street Houston is pronounced House-Ton. Every day is an adventure. Here is something hilarious too. I have been stopped no less than ten times and asked directions. At first, I was priding myself in looking like a New Yorker, but then I realized its because I looked approachable. Haha. Which is very much NOT like a New Yorker. I kill myself.

August 14th 2009

Dear Frances,

I have friends! Besides you and everyone in Alaska. 😊 but I am now in the fold at The Knick. While we were doing side work about a week ago, Sean, one of my favorite waiters, says, “Hey, we’re going to the Rez after work if ya wanna join” I must have lit up from the inside, but tried to be all sure, yeah, I can do that.

It’s a dingy bar down the street the staff goes to after work. A lot of waiters in the village hang out there, until late, really late. Bars close at four am here. Well, some of them do. Industry bars, I suppose. They have a juke box and cheap drinks. Perfect. Also, there’s a really funny redhead named Erin that I get along with. I can tell we will be friends. Lots of Irish people here.

And, drum roll please…I found an apartment! Its just gorgeous! It’s in Astoria Queens, so I am leaving Brooklyn. My place is just three blocks from the train and all mine! No roommates, no mice, no fleas, and no racoons! It’s a one bedroom and I cannot wait to move!

Oh! There are no grocery stores here that have everything. You go to the fruit stand for fruit and vegies, bakery for bread, butcher for meat. So old school, but I absolutely love it. And you are not going to believe this. The liquor store will deliver to your house! How can I not love this city?

There is the cutest little Irish pub down the street from my new apartment. It’s called the Irish Rover. It will be my local. What is a local you ask? Ha! It’s the bar you frequent regularly that you can walk home from. Hilarious.

I now have a local, because I am a local. I am still head over hills in love with this place. And I now have an apartment when you want to come visit.

I hope you are well my friend and thanks for all your words of support! It means the world. Not everyone understands why I ran away from home at forty-two, but not everyone needs to. 😊 Oh, and if this isn’t a sign I don’t know what is; on the train ride home tonight, I saw a rat!

Love,

Kari