Manhattan or Bust. . .At Your Own Risk

A wise woman used to warn me to be careful what I wished for. "You just might get it," she'd say, with an arched brow and a knowing glint in her eye.

I should be so bold to say such things to some of my clients. Some people will do anything to stay in Manhattan, and some of them indeed live to regret their "Manhattan or Bust" ambitions.

A few months back I rented a steal of an apartment-- a renovated two bedroom for under $1500. Rent stabilized. Near transit, Central Park, etc. The renters were new to the City. They were kinda endearing--two sweet girls fresh out of undergrad, in search of jobs and doing their Big City Phase at the expense of their parents, whose pockets were deep enough to pay for the apartment until the renters landed jobs of their own. The girls hadn't been worn down or made cynical by this place. At least not yet.

They saw the unit shortly after dusk at a packed open house. They wanted it instantly. Another broker brought them, and I advised them all to check out the neighborhood in the night hours. I told them that though I lived nearby and had for several years with pretty much zero problems, that they should do as I do: take a cab home if they're out late. Watch their backs. Carry themselves with confidence.

They were eager. It was a good deal. I'd warned them, and assumed their broker had as well. We signed leases that same week.

Fast forward a few months. Through the grapevine I hear that the apartment is about to go back on the market because the girls want out. The place the duo loved so much is now a Life in the Big City Lesson to them. They wanted to be in Manhattan so badly, they underestimated how much of transition they could take in their still very transitional neighborhood. Forget that new bistros are popping up every couple of blocks in the 'hood and that clothing stores will soon outnumber dollar stores.

Even the landlord admits that particular block is rough. Someone was shot just steps from the girls' building a few weeks back. A makeshift shrine is still there. Just today, crossing the neighborhood park towards my own building, which is around the corner from theirs, I heard what I assumed were gunshots. Turns out that some kids were jerking around with fireworks, but notice that I assumed the worst. That's the reality of where we live. I guess they either didn't see that reality when they did their research (assuming they did research at all) or perhaps they chose to ignore any warning signs.

I don't know exactly what the last straw was for the girls, but I do wish them luck. I respect the fact that they rented a "cheaper" place with the intention of being able to afford their rent themselves once they had jobs. They easily could have rented a $3000 apartment and let their parents foot the bill indefinitely. Now they'll trade space for peace of mind. If only such tradeoffs weren't necessary. Welcome to life in the big city, girls.