You know that moment in the old Roadrunner cartoons when Wylie Coyote had just ran off the cliff, but had yet to look down to realize his impending fate? That could have very well been me upon making the decision to move to San Francisco. The weeks that followed that decision were one constant blur of chaos, panic, and drama that no doubt took a few years off of my life.
I submitted my resignation to HHSC the morning of my decision to move, and that started a solid week and a half of going away parties from friends, family, and coworkers that nearly did me in. It was a great feeling to know that I’d be missed by so many people, but after about the 5th night of drinking at Casino el Camino, The Draught House, Billy’s or one of a dozen other hangouts of mine, I was ready to be done with it all. Sadly that was just the beginning of the long and arduous journey ahead of me. There was to be no downtime, as the day after my last day of state employment I was on a plane to San Francisco to find a new place to live.
I had given myself four days to find a new abode, and having lined up several places to look at from Craigslist, I wasn’t concerned at all. Over the course of those 4 days I looked at tons of places around town, from a shoebox in the marina district that they wanted $2,100 a month for, to the nice place in Hayes Valley that would have been great had half of San Francisco not put in their application as well. Finally, on my last night in town, I looked at one place in NOPA and knew it was the place for me. It fit all of my needs, and just felt like a great place to live. I explained to the gentleman that was showing the place that I was on an extremely short timetable, and was told that he’d take my application, as well as the ones from the ton of other people that wanted the place as well, and have an answer for me by 10:00 the next morning. So there I was, my last morning in San Francisco, still without a place to live, and I had to be at the airport by 1:00 to catch my flight. Well 10:00 came and went, and there was no call from the landlord. Finally at 10:15 I called him only to find out that he was stuck in a meeting until 11:00. After not hearing from him by 11:30, I was starting to panic. I called him one last time to find out the problem was now that my old apartment complex staff were dragging their feet in faxing him my rental verification. I informed him that I was about to have to check out of my hotel, and finally he said to just go ahead and head to his office, and he may have an answer for me when I get there. So I checked out and drove like a madman across the city, with an hour to go before I had to be at the airport. When I got there he finally let me know that the place was mine, I signed the lease, cut him a check, and made a mad dash for the airport, thinking that the worst was now behind me. Of course I was sadly mistaken, as this adventure was about to take a turn for the worst…
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