Movin' Out: Part I
By Rob Bloom

My wife and I are moving to Philadelphia. I HATE MOVING. So it is written, so it shall be repeated: I HATE MOVING. Moving means packing and packing means cardboard boxes and packing peanuts. It also means another round in the age-old battle of Man vs. Packing Tape Dispenser (da da DUM!). On paper, it's a fairly close matchup. Man has the size advantage, as well as the use of opposable thumbs. In contrast, the tape dispenser brings razor-sharp edges and bright colors to the warzone. Let's get ready to Ruuuuuuuuuuuuumble!

"Rob takes the end of the tape — and the early lead — by taping the box flaps vertically. He looks confident, but this one's far from over. Look at this, he's going for the Horizontal! But wait, the dispenser blocks the move! The tape is clinging to the plastic prongs and it's twisted itself around. What a maneuver! Oh no, Rob has LOST the end of the tape. I repeat, he can't find the end of the tape! He's throwing the tape dispenser to the floor! And the dispenser wins again!"

But moving is all about losing battles. Ladies and gentlemen of the jury, I offer Exhibit R2D2. This a word-for-word transcript of a telephone call between myself and my long-distance phone carrier. My mission was simple: cancel the service. Here's what transpired:

Evil rep: So you're sure you want to cancel your phone service?
Me: Yep, that's right.
Evil rep: Did you know that you can simply have your phone service transferred to your new residence?
Me: Um, no thanks. Just cancel it, please.
Evil rep: It will just take a moment to transfer the service. If you give me your forwarding address, I'd be happy to set it up for you, Mr. Bloom.
Me: But I just want to cancel.
Evil rep: It's really not a problem at all. I'm ready when you are.
Me: Really, no thank you. Just please cancel…
Evil rep: LISTEN, I'M TIRED OF PLAYING GAMES! JUST GIVE ME THE ADDRESS AND I'LL TRANSFER THE SERVICE!
Me (through loud sobbing): It's 817 Terrace…

The steps involved with moving are much like the tracks on a John Tesh CD: each one is more tedious and annoying than the one before. But the one that drives me to invent new and creative pairings of four-letter words is the process of searching for an apartment. Now here's an activity that's surpassed in agony only by an afternoon of oral surgery...with dull instruments...that are rusty. After a day of looking at apartments, you're left with a pounding headache and the burning desire to slit your wrists with rental brochures. And worst of all, no free toothbrush.

The brunt of the problem lies with people (and I'm using that term loosely) who are called leasing agents. Leasing Agents are an interesting breed of creature. They're rude, aggressive and ALWAYS in a hurry. While some attribute this need for speed to the required twelve mochachino lattes a day, others believe leasing agents are merely rushing to meet their sales quota before midnight. Which is, of course, the hour when they return to their alien spacecrafts to rehearse their carefully-honed skill of not listening.

My wife and I traveled to Philly a few weeks ago to find our new apartment. We arrived at the rental office of a high-rise building where we met Kathy, our appointed leasing agent. After spending an entire 20 seconds to find out what we were looking for in an apartment, Kathy darted out the door. Frightened, yet also intrigued, we followed the bizarre creature outside.

“Are you coming or not?” Kathy called back to us as she darted in between cars like Frogger.

Kathy took us to Market Street, which surprisingly has very little markets at all. Instead, we found plenty of stores with clothes we couldn't afford to buy and restaurants with food we couldn't afford to eat. We also saw apartments that were so small they could fit (comfortably) into the trunk of a Honda.

Many moons and Starbucks stops later (“This'll just take a sec. Oh, this is a great neighborhood, you're going to love it he…WHAT IS THIS!?! I SAID SKIM MILK!!!), we picked an apartment, signed the lease and wrote Kathy a check for an obscene amount of money. I'm told this covers our deposit, first 12 weeks/last 6 months of rent, and the fee for Kathy's personal trainer.

Which brings me to today. As the clock ticks down our final hours in Atlanta, the smell of cheesesteaks gets stronger. And although it's hard to start over in a new city, I'm looking forward to the adventure. Actually just between us, what I'm really looking forward to is unpacking. Yesiree. It's Bloom vs. Packing Tape II...and this time, I've got scissors.