NEWMAN!

Before losing my job , I was planning on moving to Brooklyn. The main reason was the city was grinding down on me. It seems as crowded as ever and the sensory overload had taken its toll. Additionally, the cache of my building was beginning to wear off as they cut costs and amenities. But there was really one final straw that made me want to move.

About nine months ago, I heard a pitter-patter of footsteps running across my ceiling. It sounded like a huge centipede. Once it started it wouldn't stop for 30 mins to an hour. I assumed someone was doing some sort of exercising. I asked what the situation was at the front desk and one of the doorman said coyly that sometimes the apt above me (#22C) has visitors and that may be the noise (didn't make much sense to me at the time but I figured I'd go with it). He said the next time I hear the noise to call him. Two nights later I hear the noise and I called him -- it stopped immediately. Great, I thought. Two nights later, same thing. I call the front desk and this time it doesn't stop. When I saw the doorman a day later I asked him what happened. He said the people said it wasn't them.

The footsteps haven't stopped but I finally figured out what it is. Some of my other neighbors have had issues with nightclub music from across the street (I don't really hear it because I don't face the street). My neighbor approached me one day as I left my apartment to find out if I had an issue with the music and wanted to join their fight. I told him I didn't have a problem with the music but told him the damn footsteps above were killing me. "You mean from the kid?" he asked as if I was a total d-bag for getting upset with a kid's footsteps. I kind of joked it off but knowing it's a kid certainly hasn't softened the annoyance factor for me.

As I was getting off the elevator today I passed a mother and kid in a stroller that were getting on. The kid looked up at me, smiled and said "BYE BYE". As I turned to say hello, the doors started closing and I noticed a cardboard box on the kid's lap with a big #22C written in magic marker.

NEWMAN!