I grab my phone and call the super. Again, I go into voicemail. So I rattle off a message citing the reoccurrence of water and my displeasure and that I need him to call me back ASAP, and that I will call again in about 15 minutes. Five minutes later the super (who I am beginning to think is useless) calls back, he tells me to go upstairs and tell him to stop bathing. Really? It is my job to tell him to him to cease with hygiene? I slip on my shoes and stomp up the stairs and bang on the front door to the apartment until it opens. I am on the phone with the super when the Asian man opens the door, still wet, still in boxers, only these ones seem to have holes in them. Lovely.
“Hey your bathroom is leaking all over mine,” I say to the neighbor. “Talk to the super,” I order and hand him my phone. The neighbor, with my phone on his ear, and I go into his apartment and peer into the bathroom, where everything looks fine. It is my loo that looks like Noah and his boat of pets made a pass through my place. The neighbor hands me the phone, “Super wants to talk to you.” I take the phone and hear the super barking, “I cannot understand a word that Chinese guy is saying, so you do all the talking.” Okay, first, it is New York. No where other than here are we going to have tons of ethnic folks. Second, the super is from Malta and sporting quite an accent himself. And now I am stuck playing operator? At least we are all speaking in English and I don’t need to run to Barnes and Noble and get some dictionaries.
“Okay, get his key and I’ll bring a crew there tomorrow morning,” the super says. My brows shoot up. “To his apartment? You want me to get his key? I wouldn’t give him mine,” I say flatly. And why as the super does he NOT have the key himself? Or the Landlord? Aiy! “Okay tell him to stay there. Don’t go to work until we get there.” I roll my eyes and cover the mouthpiece. “Super says to stay put until he gets here if you won’t give the key. And I don’t want your key. I am sure you don’t want to give it to me either.” The neighbor thinks for a few minutes and then nods. “Fine, we’ll both be here tomorrow. He leaves for work at 8:30 am,” I say, not really knowing if this is true or not, but it sounds good and it allows me to set up a time frame so I am not stuck waiting for the super all day.
“Fine,” the super replies.
I go back to my apartment and find my friends gathering their coats and things. And like that my housewarming is complete. Welcome to your new home, Desi Girl.