Wednesday, May 19, 2004

Of Attempts to Up Anchor

So will I ever move out? that is the question.

Sometimes I think maybe I'll just live with my parents the rest of my life. Of course I hope I'm kidding though because neither I nor my parents deserve this much longer.

So the "Great Apartment Search" has started.

a buddy and I have been scouring the Chicagoland area in hopes of finding a decent place to live that is the exact opposite of some of the beat down, dillapidated, bums picking through the garbage out back, college houses I have inhabited in years past. At the same, I feel it's imperative that there are some good bars close by that have cheap beer available.

Currently we have set our sites on Forest Park because of it's close proximity to Chicago, it's cheap beer, and reasonable rent.

We started looking this weekend and at first we didn't really know how to find a good place to live. I thought maybe we should look in the newspaper, or maybe go into the town real estate office, but after a while we just decided to find a good bar, drink some beers and see what happened.

Immediately we started a conversation with the bartender and the next thing we know we're getting all the inside dirt on the town, and she even got us a local newspaper and circled all the apartments/flats for us. What a great chick. So we sat in the bar and called all the ads in the paper, and set up appointments. It was great, because we'd ask the landlords how to get to their building from such and such bar. We had a great system going. We'd go on an apartment viewing, then go back to the bar for a couple beers, than go on another, than go back to the bar; it was a great thing we had going.

There's no better first impression to give your landlord, than meeting him the first time reeking of booze.

There were so many random places we went to. My favorite one was this small apartment/flat on top of the house of this old greek couple. The second we walked into this place and met these people, I instantly imagined us rocking out the top of their house at 2:00am on a Saturday night, with this 70 year old guy banging at the ceiling with a broom handle, blood pressure rising, angry as all hell, yelling, "damn you kids with your beer and your loud rock music" and I thought to myself, these people don't deserve to have us living in the flat above their house. In fact no one really does I presume.