7 Blocks with a Desk on Wheels

by agoodnow

I bought a desk today.  It is a nice desk.  Nothing fancy. But, it is a place I can write.  It cost $60.  Fits perfectly in the back corner of my walk in closet sized studio apartment. I’m happy with it.

After negotiating the price of the desk with the young lady at the antiques store (this desk is far from an antique.  Maybe an antique from someone’s 2002 dorm room) she asked me how I was planning on getting it the seven blocks to my apartment. 

“Well, I hadn’t really thought about that part”

However, this is no ordinary desk.  This is a super desk with…..WHEELS. 

Have you ever tried to wheel a desk 7 blocks in Manhattan?  No?  Really?  Well then.  You have not really lived.  This is the climbing Mount Everest of furniture transportation.  I have been to the peak and I’m not sure I could imagine transporting a large, oblong wooden structure any other way.  It took skill, strategy, strength, and a little bit of luck. 

Let me explain. 

You see the wheels on standard office furniture are not  made for traversing the concrete jungle of Manhattan.   A five foot move from point A to point B over a patch of carpet squares…..sure.  Nearly half a mile over brick, gum, litter, animal feces, and let’s not forget the 8 million or so other residents that I had to avoid.  The desk, unfortunately, did not come with power steering.  The thing was all over the place.   I’m amazed that I did not hurt a small animal or child.  I nearly played bumper cars with a number of strollers.  

Homeless people were looking at me like – Hey, buddy.  It is called a fucking moving service.  Why don’t you try it out.  Moron!!!

A lot of people gave me that “Ummm……haven’t seen this before look.”

I felt like I was in some sort of sketch comedy skit.  All I needed was a bear costume and a bottle of booze and I would have been in business.

Oh, speaking of bottles of booze. 

A young lady left her phone at the bar last night and I (being the all around good guy that I am) was able to get in touch with her and get it back to her.  (Someone needs to give me some sort of an award)

I met her on a street corner.  Real sketchy like and as I went to hand her the phone she reaches for her purse.  I think I’m going to see a taser or a can of mase.  Nope, much worse.

“Here is the reason I lost my phone.”

She pulls out a bottle of Jameson and hands it to me.    Now that is what you call good people. 

Of course, I had to inform her that I called a few 900 numbers and sent a bunch of texts to donate money to causes and charities.   

A new writing desk and a fresh bottle of Jameson.   The stars are beginning to align.