It was October 25, 1996, and I was at the airport seeing a friend's father off. It was raining heavily and we could hear people at the airport discussing how bad it was. My friend's uncle who was a home-made clown in his own right was saying how badly flooded some people's houses were. He even added that he would turn his unaffected house which was on a hill into a hotel for the night and make himself some money. In the middle of our discussions, my phone rang. It was my brother on the line telling me our basement apartment was flooded. "How bad?" I asked, "Almost knee-length" he said. I said ok and hung up. That did not sound good.
We left the airport in a hurry. I was actually trying to do two things, leave the airport so I did not have to pay for parking which was free for the first hour and get home in time to see the extend of the damage. I got home and from the top of the staircase, I had to ask my brother to fling me my boots. I waddled in to see the damage and I was ready to leave immediately. My bed which I did not have a stand for was soaked, my pictures which I had prepared to send out for reprints were all stuck together damaged, electronic appliances were almost soaked with water. My brother had done a good job of getting the most important things out of the way. In any case, the whole place was a lake and since there was nothing I could do, I decided to go watch a movie. I know it does not make sense, but what's a man to do in such a situation? Call 911? The whole city was flooded and call the fire department was out of the question.
The lessons of that day are not lost on me. Whatever you do, don't leave in a basement. I was thinking of forming a group called BAD - Basement Association Dwellers. My friend Jerry lives in a basement in Quincy and Remi lives in a basement in West Roxbury even though she likes to call her basement "a basement on the first floor" just because her building is sort of on a hill.
Basement life can be intriguing. Leaking roof, no TV reception (I have not being able to watch X-files for a long time and depleted oxygen. Oh yeah, that reminds me of the day I came back from work and was taking a nap only to wake up and see a fireman in my room. "What the ....?" I was dazed at first. I got up and came out only to see more of them. An ambulance was outside with fire trucks and all.
For some strange reason, my brother (he's no doctor you know but he's a budding expert in the health industry) decided that his headaches were being caused by carbon monoxide poisoning in the apartment. He called 911. Now I know why 911 says they are overburdened. They ran their tests in the apartment and advised us to visit the emergency room at Brigham and Women.
Like foolish sheep, the three of us drove to the hospital where of course they asked for our insurance before they asked what was wrong. I guess we were sort of excited at the unknown. We hadn't being in a hospital in a long time apart from my brother who works there and I guess boredom contributed a part. I was partially covered by insurance and Craig who was not working at the time gave me this lecture about how unemployed people are covered by some government insurance. Go figure that one out. Anyway, tests revealed nothing to worry about and Craig learnt something about government insurance a few weeks later. He got hit by a $243 bill. $20 for the blood test and $223 for using the emergency room. How is that for someone who was unemployed. As for me, insurance covered $218 so I paid the remainder. I laughed at Craig till I became hungry. Craig actually wants to continue living in the basement. He is convinced that since people like Bill Gates (MicroSoft) and Mitch Kapor (Lotus 123) started in the basement and hit it big, then he could do the same. Not me I say. He says great things happen in basements and I interrupt him and say "sure, great things like floods and power outages"
Why do people call you when you are watching your favorite show and they insist you really do not want to talk to them. In a sense, that's true cos you don t want to talk to them then but there was always later. I had a friend who always wanted to know what's up? She figures she can clue in on everyone's life. I decided I had enough of her so I started listening to the weather forecast everyday so that whenever she called and asked "what's up, what's happening?", I could go "Well, its cloudy up there, expect some light rain with the northeasterly breeze coming in form the Cape. Tomorrow, there will be sunshine and temperatures will be in the 60s, have a nice night." Click! As of today, she still doesn't get the message.
The telephone is high in demand in the basement. I and my roommates have loads of people to call since virtually nobody calls us.
There is a unwritten rule in the basement that says whenever you are on the phone, you can spend the rest of the night on it even if somebody else just wants to make a two minute call to order food or set up a date. There is also something to be said for not answering the beep when a call is coming through a la call-waiting. My roommates seem to have a porous brain as I never seem to get my phone messages till five days later when the caller calls again and starts to lambast me for not returning his/her call. The scenario is always interesting but objectionable. The phone rings and Ipick up:
Me: Hello, what's up
Whoever: How come you have not returned my call.
Me: You haven't called me in two years....
Whoever: I called you three days ago and Craig said you were out...
Craig: Oh yeah!! "Whoever" called you on Wednesday night.
Me: Sure, thanks for telling me now, any other messages?
I have stop worrying about getting messages, I just worry about being able to use the phone. Who knows, the day I would want to call 911, I probably wont be able to. A question to ponder is why you want to call a friend a discuss a show as it is going on? Its a waste of time and you occupy precious phone lines. Does the phrase "all trunks are busy" mean anything to you?
Bills, bills, bills. I always dread going to my mail box every day because I know there will always be a bill there. I would rather get no mail than to get a bill. I hate bills much the way I hated division in mathematics in grade school. I used to pray at night for GOD to punish the person who invented division. I have got over that now since I have to divide the bills between me and the basement crew.
There is something wrong with having so many bills to pay. You could almost run through a list without running out. You have rent, phone bills, cable bills, electricity bills, gas bills, heating bills, car notes, credit card bills and for my humble friend, Craig who can single handedly fund the City of Boston when he pays his parking tickets which one time came up to $900.
One of the worst things about bills is when you have to split them and God bless you if the utility is in your name. In my case, the phone and the cable bills were in my name and those were the most difficult to collect and they always seem to be the highest bills apart from the rent. Our phone bills were always due thirty days after we receive them and one of my roommates could spend that 30days arguing about which is his call and which was not. Sometimes, I look up to the heavens to see if there are any aliens lifting off who might have made the call.
The cable bill is another one. It is easier to sort out than the phone bill but getting one of your roommates to admit to ordering spice or playboy is like trying to get into Harvard from grade 6. In any case one person always tries to save the day and you always know the guilty party when they say "okay just to make things easier, I'll pay for it" I really don't care what anyone thinks but I will never volunteer to pay for anything I did not order and definitely not spice.
The last time we all ordered pay-per-view, it was when Tyson got decked by Evander Holyfield. I supported Tyson through the fight while my roommates and some of their friends supported Holyfield. The bill came long after the fight was over and I figured that those who supported Holyfield pay the entire bill. Of course with my roommates, that wasn't a good idea. In the end, we all split the bill equally.
Deciding where to go with my friends can sometimes take eternity. Someone is always not going to be in the mood for what we were going to do. I remember the day we all went out to a night club, I spent the whole night watching everyone dance. I promised myself never to do that again.
Going out to dinner together can be hilarious at times. People behave the way the government does. If they are paying for it, they only come in small bits, as long as someone else is paying for it, they come in truckloads and wastage occurs. We went to International House of Pancakes (IHOP) one evening and it was almost Xmas. Everyone ordered a small plate of this or that. As soon as my brother said he was paying, everyone went haywire and started to order things that weren't even on the menu.
The movies is another empire on its own. I doubt I have ever gone to a movie early or in time for that matter. It was not a matter of choice. It makes me wonder if they all live in a virtual reality world where time is 15minutes slow. There are some people who would not miss their previews for anything. They consider it the best part of the movie. My friend Patricia figures you can never be late for a movie because all the previews take at least 10minutes. I suppose that's the reason she can't tell you how any movie she has watched began.
Clubbing on the whole seem to be our entertainment of choice. Maybe it is because we enjoy seeing each other dance like monkeys high on banana or maybe we just like seeing who would sweat the most and soak the attire they just bought the day before at the mall. In any case, each of the clubs we frequent holds a story for us.
First stop: Club Joy. We decided at the last minute to go there one Friday night when a lady who had come to see my friend Craig decided she did not have the proper clothes to wear. We had not planned on going out. We never do. Anyway, I ended up giving her an old pair of pants which looked new and they fitted. I had not worn those pant since my freshman year. I should have known that the girl was seriously broke when she asked who was going to pay. I intentionally ignored that questioned knowing fully well that I could fall victim to the "leaking pocket" syndrome if I did. Nobody actually answered her question but the point was that she came to see Craig and we all knew her. We got to the club and they went in before me since I had to park the car. Ten minutes later when I got to the door , Craig and the girl were still there. Patricia and my brother had already gone to the dance floor. Something told me there was a monetary problem and being the friend that I was, I pretended like I did not know what was going on. After all, why pay for someone who one could qualify as a "pest/user extraordinaire." They hadn't expected the entry fee to be $15, so Craig ended up coughing up double the amount that night. Poor guy. Craig has become wiser since then.
Essex is another club we frequent often but it so happens that my brother became familiar with the bouncer not in a good way though. You see, my poor brother was hadn't quite hit the legal age limit for Saturday nights and the foreign license wasn't cutting it. One night, we went there but I forgot my license at home so I had to go back to get it. They stayed in line. By the time I got back, I saw my M&M prancing the street around the club cursing the passing taxi drivers under his breathe. It seemed nobody wanted to stop for him. I don't blame the taxi drivers though, who wants to carry a black man that has just being dissed by a bouncer at the club. When I tooted my horn, the poor guy almost cursed me out too because he did not realize it was me. In any case, he spent the night at home.
That kinda reminds me of when I was underage and used to go to Club with Craig and Jerry. This was at the Roxy on Ebony nights. They had me go ahead of them so that if I got dissed(I was using the foreign license then), they could avoid the embarrassment I would suffer. So much for buddies.
I think at one point, we got bored with clubbing in Boston and we decided to go to Vincent's which is almost in Providence, Rhode Island if you ask me. Craig was so excited, he ironed his clothes for two hours till the line in his pants could almost slice bread. Patricia was invariably excited. I am still not sure why but I think it had something to do with the fact that I said Vincent's was near Rhode Island. Can you imagine, she was going to the Islands, mon!! We got there and Craig and I were predicting that either my brother or Patricia would be bounced so we made them go ahead of us in the line. We had to leave because Patricia was bounced for not adhering to the dress code!!! Back to Massachusetts we went. I believe we went to Games Village to expend the dancing energy we had that night.
Games Village was another smoke-filled joint we go to when we get bored. It's an arcade that caters to anyone who loves video games. There is something addictive about the place and I decided that whenever we went, I would take only ten dollars. You could loose your wallet in there. There was a night we went and they almost closed the place down with us still in there. We came back home with some of the arcade tokens.
The alpha and omega of human sustenance. I would not advise you to come to the basement hungry cause you just may drop dead from hunger and given that we are so broke all the time, calling an ambulance or even a taxi to cart you away is not even an option. Surely, we can hide your body in the dumpster but who wants to do that. There are times when the basement resembles a desert. Nothing to eat or drink. No wonder all the rats that moved in with us moved out about four weeks later. I am surprised they lasted that long.
Initially, I couldn't figure out why the roaches in the our apartment were dying but after I called the Nobel Laureate Scientist at Harvard, he came to the conclusion that the rate of acceleration of the roaches could not be sustained by the ecosystem within the apartment. In layman's language, the roaches were dying due to lack of food.
One of the things that bugged me in the basement was leaving a perfectly good dinner in the fridge. See, I tend to do that a lot so I dont have to cook after work the next day. Well, what happens is a classic case for Agent Mulder and Agent Scully. I am at work all day, I dream about this food in the fridge, how I was going to nuke it in the microwwave, how I was going to pour my orange juice in the glass and then the process of selecting a TV program to watch with my meal. I also imagine myself feeling good at the end of the meal, sitting there in my living room with a feeling of satisfaction.
Well, I guess some days are not meant to be. By the time I get home in anticipation, open the fridge to retrieve my plate of excellent dinner IT's GONE!!!!!!!!! What happened???? I don't usually accuse my roommates of depriving me of essential nutrients but I surely thought of calling 911 once. "This call is being recorded, what is the purpose of this call"
"Errr, emm, I am calling to report a robbery"
"Where do you live?"
"Next to the brown house by the Museum"
"Can you give me an exact address sir?"
"ohh, sorry, its 157 Ocean Park Drive"
"Okay, I will send an officer over, meanwhile, can you make a list of the stolen items?"
"Oh that's easy officer, its just one plate of Jollof Rice and Plaintains!"
"What?????"
"I said its just one plate of food"
"You mean you called us just because you had a plate of food stolen???Are you nuts??? Do you know how many people have died because you tied up this phone line with your lousy call???...." "But I paid my taxes!!"
"Shit men!!You must be one stupid dude" Click! He hangs up and I go to bed hungry
My dear friend, Patricia gave my still-born company this name. It sounds funny especially when she says it and it has become a tease phrase for them. The company even has a motto, Chuck Express-taking you where you've never been. I actually thought of printing Business cards with my name and title :Director of Logistics
The name came about because a conference was being hosted at Harvard and I was organizing people from Northeastern to attend. I ended up ferrying everyone of them there. Invariably, a lot of people want to USE you because you have a car and they think they look so innocent doing so. Well, these are their stories.
A girl once called me and asked me if I could drive her to the ATM to get some money. Mind you, her house was closer to the ATM and it would have taken me longer to drive to her house than it would take her to walk to the ATM. The ATM was just down the street from her place. Anyway, I doubt she needed the money urgently?, and even if she did, there were other excuses. I stayed home.
I had this pest come at 12 midnight in the middle of the week asking me to help her move her stuff from one area in Boston to another. Even U-Haul does not offer a 24 hour service. She was just like my kid sister and I guess I have a soft spot for people who start to cry when they know you are going to refuse them. Anyway, I helped her but I told her never to call me after 9pm.
I think the rudest people were those who never used to call me at least to say hello but when I got a car figured I work at a driving school. They come up to me and bat their eyelids like I was going to fall for that and they proceed to tell me how they've always wanted to learn how to drive. "I am free on Saturdays for lessons" she would pucker her lips and make you want to even want to kiss her but I have to play along so I say "...really, morning or evening?" "Evenings" she adds enthusiastically. "Sorry, I work evenings" I lie sounding disappointed knowing fully well that I just told a cruel lie. I end up telling them to call a driving school, wouldn't want to cut into their profits.
People can insult you in many ways when you have a car. I once asked this girl out (when I did not have a car) and she basically turned me down. I figured that was it. She never called again. One fine day just as I was listening to Mariah Carey, she calls and asks me to drive her to an outlet store in Maine. I thought about it for a minute and I figured I had the time to take her so I asked her to rent a car from Alamo and call me when she was ready. She never called back. Go figure.
Never ever take directions from someone who does not drive. They may tell you its the grey building by the post office but they sure as hell wont tell you that all the streets around the area are one way streets. By the time you realize that, you are on the Massachusetts Turnpike to New York.
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