(Click Above Link To View Video of Hoboken & Our Apartment Post Hurricane Irene)
One of my clients called me resilient the other day, I surely prefer that over "unlucky".
My resilience was definitely being tested Tuesday, as well as my dormant ulcer, as my stomach churned on the PATH train headed back to Hoboken. I knew this time, it wasn't because of bad Mexican food.
Many people comment that Manhattan smells in the summertime because of the trash piled high on the sidewalks. I once compared it to McDonalds- it doesn't really matter whats in that to-go bag, somehow, it always smells the same. Today, Hoboken seemed to have the same smell except imagine that instead of trash it was sewage, yet not contained & was instead covering the city like a blanket. Like Manhattan trash, the leaked sewage due to the flooding, was now baking in the sun. It wasn't the first time I've smelled this in Hoboken, but you never get used to it. The ripe scent was my first welcome home gift as I stepped off the train.
Except this place no longer felt like home. As I wondered if it ever truly did, I couldn't help but notice that life seemed back to normal in the Boken. The excruciatingly long line of annoying tourists just waiting to sneak a peek of the Cake Boss was back on Washington Street, after only a two-day break. The mad rush to and from the PATH train, downtown's only connection to the island of Manhattan, was a steady stream of people resembling ants, not thinking, just moving. Not only the smell, but the emergency vehicles and rescue boats parked in front of city hall were a stark reminder that this place was far from normal. The streets, that just a few days before were canals for homemade boats, were clear and dry but the sand bags that were once part of the sea's floor were still in place. Some offices had already begun the cleanup and the smell of freshly shampooed carpets offered some relief from the inescapable stench. Cars were back to being lined up on the street which wasn't surprising. A parking spot in this town would always be a hot commodity, even in a hurricane.
As I walked down Park Avenue towards our apartment, any hope I had was whisked down the drain just like the gushing water coming from neighboring buildings. Both of my neighbors' basement apartments were furiously pumping water through hoses and PVC pipes from inside their homes. It had been days since the flooding, how was this even possible?
I reached my apartment door but tried as I may, tried as I might, I couldn't get the door to budge. It had obviously swollen from the water damage. I noticed our front window was open a small amount. This was unnerving as I knew anyone else with a brain would be thinking what I was currently thinking. Without hesitation, I lifted the screen and in front of a dozen passersby, who didn't utter a word (typical), I slipped down into my living room. The floor was still wet as the linoleum, previously covered with carpet, settled under my feet. Our furniture and personal items had been carelessly strewn about as building management had tried to pull up the carpet and padding, leaving sewage soaked patches to rot where the furniture was apparently too heavy to move.
They had set up one box fan, (one we owned!), in the main room and a tiny window fan in the bedroom window where a new air conditioning unit had once been. I'm not sure what was worse, the smell of sewage left seeping into wood or the sight of sewage left seeping into wood. Just a few days ago, this had been our home. It was now unrecognizable.
Once the carpet and padding was removed, several subfloors and shoddy patch work had been revealed. At this point we could've guessed, but it didn't lesson the shock. There was gypcrete, plywood, old linoleum and hundred year old hardwood- all damaged, and previously covered up with a layer of carpet and thin padding. All was severely damaged from the flood.
I stayed only long enough to grab more clothes and dog food before getting out. My nostrils burned from anything and everything that was in the air.
In a subsequent conference call with the slumlord, he informed us that he had no intention of removing any of the badly damaged and rotting subfloor before replacing the carpet. He admitted to not actually having seen the property since the flood, but admittedly didn't care because he wasn't interested in loss of rent that would incur from any necessary repairs. He wasn't sure what he was going to cover the damaged subfloor with, carpet or tile, or "maybe even AstroTurf if [he] felt like it!". If we didn't like his proposed solution (or lack thereof) he'd "do us a favor" and let us out of our lease and not charge us for September (not sure how you charge someone who's living in a hotel due to uninhabitable conditions) but this would only be the agreement should we agree to be completely out by Sept 15- approximately 16 days...
I know none of this sounds sane but the real crazy part is that we were actually stunned. Stunned to learn what we had been living with for the last 6 months (this obviously wasn't the first time this place had suffered major water damage that was just covered up with a fresh layer of carpet) and stunned we were at the mercy of a completely thoughtless and demented human being. It was also a bit demented on our part to think we had any recourse as calls to the Hudson Housing Authority and Health Department went unreturned.
I looked like everyone else on the PATH train on my ride back to Midtown that afternoon. In a deep solitary stare with a blank look on my face. One week ago, we were jet setting off on a five-star vacation and now we were essentially homeless. What would tomorrow bring? I couldn't even venture a guess...
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