Farewell, Sweet Balcony...

Yesterday I turned in the keys to my apartment. I was there for almost four and half years. That is a very long time. Last night I had some friends over to help me say goodbye and only two of them even knew me before I'd lived there.

There is something extraordinarily monumental about something like this and it seems as if it happened all so fast.

That was my first real apartment. I entered it with a futon and some old Dartmouth posters. I left it with whole living room set and bonafide art. I threw the best party the graduate school has seen in a long time. I threw the best New Year's Eve party I'd ever been to, which included both vomiting and fire. I learned to grill and roll sushi in that apartment. I spent so much time on my balcony that I invested more money on lanterns from Pier 1 than I spent on bedding. I learned the ins and outs of horticulture there (well, more the outs than the ins, as my rotting parsley will attest to). Lisa and I performed "Once More With Feeling" in its entirety in that apartment. With a sword. Sam coated every wall with some form of alcoholic beverage. I came out in that apartment. I changed thesis labs and turned my life around in that apartment.

I fell in love in that apartment.

And I wonder, will that apartment see such levels of debauchery again? Will it's new inhabitants set fire to the window by grilling with an open flame? Will they leave fish on the balcony to rot throughout the winter because they completely forgot about it? Will my beloved Contessa return when spring comes and wonder where I am? Will the new inhabitants hurl objects from seventeen floors, some of them lit? Will the labs at SKI wonder where that guy who used to have blue hair and sunbathe half naked on the balcony went off to?

Well I'll tell you where he went off to. He moved into a pre-war duplex in the East 90s, where he has is first real lease, his first queen bed and his first (and hopefully last) real boyfriend to share it with. I guess I'm moving up in the world, even though I've moved down about 15 stories.

So to say goodbye, here I am (you'd think that's the only shirt I own), and my beautiful view. And if you look closely, you can see the Chrysler Building in all it's glory....