So after the whole break-in incident at my apartment, I got outta my lease. Mind you, I've just condensed a bunch of days and calls and angst into one sentence. My former landlord gave me just over a week to completely move out of the crime scene--just in time for some poor unsuspecting university student to move in.
In that short amount of time, I hustled to find places to store my things. Boxes of pots and pans went to my friend Meghan's apartment along with my KitchenAid stand mixer (shout out for the best appliance EVAH!). Clothes and such went to my friend Karen's. This left a mattress, desk, bookshelf, a couple of lamps, and boxes of books without a home. I stressed. I worried. I called Public Storage.
When the time (2 weeks to be exact) came for me to move into my new apartment (complete with a roommate I don't know), I decided I'd had enough of lifting and sweating. So, at the suggestion of the aforementioned Karen, I called a company called The Real Rock N Roll Movers. I kid you not. I was promised two rock n rollers, a truck, and a trailer for my tiny move.
The day of the move I met the rock n rollers at the storage unit. They were a few minutes late, but that's to be expected I guess because we are moving on rock n roll time here. The two gentleman (let's call them The Blonde and The Brunette) were both outfitted in skinny jeans and black T-Shirts emblazoned with the company name. The Blonde hopped out of the truck to greet me while The Brunette pulled the truck/trailer combo around back. I noticed that The Blonde's toes were sticking out of his black high-top canvas shoes.
The conversation went something like this:
"Hi, I'm Elisabeth."
"Hey, I'm The Blonde. How's it goin'?"
"So far so good."
"Yeah, yeah. You ever have one of those days when you wake up in a good mood? Well, I woke up in a good mood today and, like, I'm just hoping it lasts the whole day because it's the best feeling, man. You know what I mean?"
Conversation like this continued during the move. We talked about bands (duh), how downtown Los Angeles was becoming super trendy, some loft that was available for rent downtown, a music festival that had just taken place the day before. Oh, and I asked a TON of questions. My questions resulted in the following information:
1. The Brunette and The Blonde are indeed in a band together
2. Apparently moving is a good hangover cure
3. The guy who started the business is very organized. And he plays music
4. My move was one of the smallest they'd ever seen (score!)
5. People are rude--especially when they hire movers and haven't packed a bloomin' thing
My entire move lasted less than an hour, and I didn't even break a sweat. And at the end, The Blonde and The Brunette invited me to a gig. How many times have you moved and gotten an invite to a show?
Ah L.A., you are bizarre.