Those
of you who have been paying attention may have noticed the absence
of our regularly scheduled updates for the last two weeks. The reason
why is this: I finally lost my virginity. No, seriously, (like
that would ever happenEd.) Sunday evening of the July
4 weekend, Mistress Rowena and I returned from a delightful trip
to Northampton, MA (the "Lesbian Capital of the Universe,"
according to the local tourist board) to find a notice taped to
the door of my apartment building. It was written in large, friendly
red and black capital letters. The exterminator again? On closer
inspection, the red letters spelled VACATE.
Since whatever they'd been using to kill the roaches only seemed
to make them stronger, maybe they'd decided it was time to bring
in the heavy artillery and were planning to fumigate the entire
building. But, no, it turned out the Department of Buildings had
put up the notice. The roaches would have to be demanding squatters'
rights or lobbying for maintenance of rent control before the Department
of Buildings would get involved. Further perusal of the notice revealed
that it declared conditions in my building "imminently perilous
to human life"without even opening my refrigerator!and
ordered all the inhabitants to vacate or face arrest. Taking turns
keeping a watch for cops, Mistress Rowena and I surreptitiously
entered our own apartment, feeling like thieves, grabbed what we
could, threw it in the car, and headed out to my mom'sand,
by the way, for those of you who have never played the "given
15 minutes, which of my worldly possessions do I salvage?"
game, I don't recommend it.
It turned
out that all the time I'd been living in my apartment, the main
beam that held up my floor had been cracked nearly in two, not to
mention rotting and sagging worse than Ruth Gordon's titties in
Harold and Maude: Twenty Years Later. This trivial little
fact was only discovered when they began converting the butcher
shop downstairs into a knishery and they ripped up the concrete
floor with a jackhammer and tore out the ceiling to reveal that
the nineteenth-century supports weren't what they used to be. Amazingly,
this discovery came at the exact same moment the landlord wanted
to apply to raise our rentswhich he will now be able to do
without going through the usual red tape, by virtue of having to
put more than $20,000 in renovations into the place just to keep
it from collapsing.
Anyway,
long story short, with some savvy searching on Craigslist
and some financial help from my family, we found a new, and far
larger, place half a block away from ye olde abode, which has started
to list alarmingly to one side. The old landlord gave me back my
security plus a (very) little something for lost wages and train
fare, we moved all my stuff down the block once the Department of
Buildings determined the floor had been shored up sufficiently that
it wouldn't collapse, and now all is fun and games deciding where
to hang the plants and the manacles.
Living
in New York, one puts up with a lot of stuff: Tiny,
foul-smelling apartments which you have to pay exorbitant
broker's fees in order to rent, monthly rents that dwarf most mortgage
payments, and no heat and hot water in January are just a few of
them. Landlords are often absentee assholes who just want your rent
money. Thankfully, there are an awful lot of weapons you can use
to even the odds. The following are Top Ten Tips for New York City
renters, based off common knowledge and my own harsh experience:
1.
They can't kick you outeven if you're there illegally
or you're squatting in someone else's apartment. I had a friend
who was in an illegal sublet in Queens, and the landlord told her
one day that she had to find another place to live. I introduced
her to my father, who happens to be a real estate lawyer. Not only
did she get to stay in her apartment free until she found someplace
new to live, but the landlord had to pay her back all the rent she
had ever given him. Even if you couldn't pay the rent in the first
place, if you have a good lawyer, or know the law yourself, there's
a lot you can do. For instance, if your rent is $1,000, and you
can only pay $600 because you're unemployed, then if you fork over
what you have, no judge is going to kick you out. You'll have to
pay the other $400 eventually but, in the meantime, you're not out
on the street.
Of course,
the door swings both ways, and if they really want you out, they
have their ways. I have a friend who has a friend who was given
a "problem" building by his Mafioso uncle-there was an
apartment in there that was being used as a brothel, and, needless
to say, they were ignoring their eviction notices. Luckily, my friend
also had a bunch of other friends who were MPs in the Marines. It's
amazing how a CS grenade will clear out an infestation of hookers
and pimps.
2.
They can't raise your rent all of a sudden. In order to go around
New York City's rather strict rent control laws, there's a rather
torturous appeals process that involves hearings and forms and all
sorts of things. You get to put your two cents in, and it's a pain
in the ass for all involved. However, the upshot is that you don't
have to pay more.
Note,
however, that very often the landlord will use slightly more persuasive
tactics to get you out and try to charge the next sucker $1200 a
month for your nice $600 rent-controlled apartment. In this case:
3.
Don't let them intimidate you: The law is on your side. Very
often, all you have to do is serve papers, or get them to the courtroom
door and your once-stern landlord will be begging for mercy. This
goes for semi-legal tricks, as well: A friend of mine was once subleasing
an apartment when the landlord decided he wanted him out so he could
jack up the rent, and sent some gorilla to the door to evict him.
My friend, knowing he was well within his rights, told the guy to
fuck off or he was calling the cops. No one ever bothered him again.
(Note this doesn't work if you're Superfly and the landlord has
tear gas.)
4.
They have to fix what's wrong. No cabinet doors? No heat? Their
idiot renovations weakened the floor? Complain loudly, complain
often, and complain to the city agency that will fine his ass $5,000
until he fixes the problem.
5.
If they don't fix it, don't pay for it. For instance, if you
suddenly find yourself without a set of stairs going up to your
apartment (as has been known to happen), stop paying rent immediately
until the problem is fixed. A lawyer can hold the money in an escrow
account so that you can't be accused of being a deadbeat. Hit them
in the pocketbook, and it's in their financial interests to fix
it.
6.
Get renter's insurance. One of my fellow inmates in the building
that was in danger of falling down had about $50,000 worth of recording
gear and computer equipment in his pad. Not being stupid, he insured
it. When we all had to vacate, he holed up in a five-star hotel-and
the insurance company recouping the cost out of the landlord's ass.
7.
Tip your super. He's the guy that fixes things, and if he knows
he's going to get an extra ten-spot or a six-pack of Coors for fixing
your cabinet doors or putting in a locking gate over the fire escape,
it will be done. You want the super on your side no matter who comes
to fuck with you, be it the police or the building's owner.
8.
Talk to the people in your building. If you know your landlord's
tricks, you'll be forewarned. Also, if you all work together, you
can beat any problem. The ideal scenario is you making so much trouble
for the guy that you all get a mortgage, buy the joint off your
landlord, and turn it into a co-op.
9.
Real estate agents are not to be trusted. This goes double for
Israelis; as the former inhabitants of the West Bank could tell
you, those Sabras just have a thing for real estate. Mistress Rowena
was subleasing a place from an acquaintance who was out of the country
when the local real-estate maven came bustling in a month or so
before her lease was up, telling her that she had to move because
the owner had a friend that she wanted to have the apartment. Suspicious,
Mistress Rowena made a phone call. It turned out the flat owner
had no such friend and was perfectly happy to renew her lease. Worse,
when confronted, the real estate agent was utterly shameless about
this. It was, after all, a slow economy.
Real
estate agents generally take about fifteen percent of a year's rent,
which can add up to thousands of dollars, to do a five-minute background
check and show you the apartment. They are barely regulated by anyone
and, in short, are a form of parasitic vermin that should be exterminated.
10.
Do your part. Don't wreck your apartment. Don't punch holes
in the wall, farm mildew, or start a major roach-breeding operation.
Keep the place well-ventilated and well-cleaned. Pay your rent on
time. In short, be a human being, even if the landlord behaves more
like a snake.