The Hipster and the Air-conditioner:
Pleased with my purchase, I hauled the 30kg box out of the taxi, past the Puerto Ricans smoking pot on the stoop, watching their kids play in the water hydrant they’ve opened up for the 19th consecutive day, and up four flights of American steps into my ghetto hipster sublet. Wrestling with the over zealous packaging I eventually got the brute out of its sheath & sticky tape and stood sweating in the heat as I tried to decipher the installation instructions. A beer was needed & soon all became clear, I had to slide this rubbery bit into a slot, and guide the plastic guard into the metal thing I’d just screwed onto the unit with a knife. So far so good. All I had to do then was lift the bastard into the open window and pray to god it somehow balanced there, fortunately the bottom window doesn’t stay open so using my knee as a jack I propped up the sash whilst picking up the ac-unit and hauled it out there. Dropping the window into place all seemed secure, precarious but secure, perhaps it was at a slight angle though? Should it be straight? An adjustment was defiantly needed, so I opened the window again to ease it out a little, forgetting of course that there was nothing but the damn window holding it. Plummeting out of the window, I only had a fraction of a moment spare to grab $200 of newly purchased electronics, holding it precariously on the edge of the outdoor window ledge, did I mention the window doesn’t stay up. A silent scream erupted in me as the sash window slammed down on my forearms pinning my arms to the window-frame. Hands holding heavy air conditioner, arms trapped by a closed window, and me kneeling on the floor, alone, face pressed against the glass of my capture. “Don’t fucking move” that was the only thought that went through my head, it took 2 days of walking in 90 degree heat (I don’t know what that means, but it’s the temperature people tell me it was), a $20 cab ride and 200 dollars to get this bastard air conditioner perched on the wrong edge of a windowsill four stories up. Don’t fucking move. This wasn’t the solution though, My flatmate Bob, being approximately 168 hours from returning from Wisconsin, and I wouldn’t survive that long in this heat anyway, it wasn’t even plugged in. As sweat dripped down my face, down the small of my back & slowly started to lubricate my arms and fingers, here we have the answer to my dilemma. The power chord was still hanging inside the window, after minutes hours or seconds, I manoeuvred myself so that teeth could clench cord and held onto the bastard with my pearly whites as I prised the window back up with my head and forearm, shifting my left arm free, leaving my right arm to balance the AC and my teeth to take the weight. I shoved the window up and pulled it back through. It’s still not straight. But I don’t give a fuck.