Got a new subscriber on my paper route today. His apartment number is 201. His neighbor's apartment number is 208. Oddly enough, this is mild compared to many other apartment complexes in the neighborhood. I got to thinking about some of the f*cknuttery that I've seen with apartments that I've had the dubious pleasure of delivering to. Here are the three worst in my neighborhood:
From the people who brought you Wayside School...
I had to deliver to #4 in a 3-story building. Logic would dictate that the lower number apartments would be on the bottom, no? As it turned out, #'s 11 and 12 were on the first floor... 1-5 were on the third floor.
Labyrinth
This particular complex, rather than neatly laid-out corridors and hallways, is a twisty maze of chaos. First, you need to make sure you're in the right building, and the only place the building number is written is on the utility meters, which for some reason are deep within the heart of the first floor (vs. being on the side of the building, where a sane person would put them).
Compounding the difficulties of finding the proper apartment is the fact that the doors are at the ends of narrow, poorly lit hallways, and there are no signs off of the main arterials to tell you what's down there (though some merciful tenants have used sharpies by the main corridors to provide some direction).
Furthermore, the third floor is split so that if you end up on the wrong side, you have to work your way back to the second floor, attempt to navigate the serpentine corridors, and hope you come back out on the right side. I swear, the worst buildings at the University were never this bad.
And the worst: The apartments 23rd st forgot
To further appreciate this a**hattery, first I must explain how to even find this place. It's address indicates the building is located on the 900 block of 23rd St, however once you reach the end of the 1000 block, you'll quickly discover that there is no 900 block.
But wait! You see the brick building you're in front of? If you drive behind said building, you'll be in their parking lot. At the back of their parking lot is some landscaping, and if you observe it closely, you will discover a drive that leads to another parking lot, and a building. This is the 900 block of 23rd St. There is no way to intuitively figure this out from the main road (I was fortunately shown this building by the person who trained me, who learned it from the person who trained them, who learned it from their trainer. Who knows who the poor soul who first had to figure it out was).
You won't know it yet, though, because there are no building numbers. The building, mailboxes, and even your faithful last-ditch resort, the utility meters, are all devoid of numbering. You know you're in the right place, though, because when you look at the apartment numbers, you'll see this:
First floor: 18, 19
Second floor: 23, 24
Third floor: 27, 28
Say it with me now:
As it turns out, on other streets there are more buildings. The first floor starts at some number (the lowest I've found is 13), and the numbers stretch around all the buildings. When they run out, they start again on the second floor of the first building, and so on. There are four or five different buildings scattered around a two-block radius, with other apartment buildings in between. Yeah, it's a royally screwed up numbering system.
Bonus College Sighting
My last year at our community college, I was excited to be having a class in the new science building. I needed to find room 205, so I went down the corridor.
201...202...203...204...207....208...wait, what?!?
I went up and down, down and up the corridor, and could not find the elusive Room 205. I met up with some other lost peers, and we determined that we were indeed classmates seeking the same room, so we banded together and set off on our epic quest.
208...207...204...203...202...
Eventually we reached 201 and the stairs. Despairing, we were about to give up, when we noticed a small hall off to the side.
206...205!
Victory was ours!
As if Fate wanted to rub it in my face, every quarter that year I had at least one class in either rooms 205 or 206 in that building...Winter quarter I even had classes in both.
From the people who brought you Wayside School...
I had to deliver to #4 in a 3-story building. Logic would dictate that the lower number apartments would be on the bottom, no? As it turned out, #'s 11 and 12 were on the first floor... 1-5 were on the third floor.
Labyrinth
This particular complex, rather than neatly laid-out corridors and hallways, is a twisty maze of chaos. First, you need to make sure you're in the right building, and the only place the building number is written is on the utility meters, which for some reason are deep within the heart of the first floor (vs. being on the side of the building, where a sane person would put them).
Compounding the difficulties of finding the proper apartment is the fact that the doors are at the ends of narrow, poorly lit hallways, and there are no signs off of the main arterials to tell you what's down there (though some merciful tenants have used sharpies by the main corridors to provide some direction).
Furthermore, the third floor is split so that if you end up on the wrong side, you have to work your way back to the second floor, attempt to navigate the serpentine corridors, and hope you come back out on the right side. I swear, the worst buildings at the University were never this bad.
And the worst: The apartments 23rd st forgot
To further appreciate this a**hattery, first I must explain how to even find this place. It's address indicates the building is located on the 900 block of 23rd St, however once you reach the end of the 1000 block, you'll quickly discover that there is no 900 block.
But wait! You see the brick building you're in front of? If you drive behind said building, you'll be in their parking lot. At the back of their parking lot is some landscaping, and if you observe it closely, you will discover a drive that leads to another parking lot, and a building. This is the 900 block of 23rd St. There is no way to intuitively figure this out from the main road (I was fortunately shown this building by the person who trained me, who learned it from the person who trained them, who learned it from their trainer. Who knows who the poor soul who first had to figure it out was).
You won't know it yet, though, because there are no building numbers. The building, mailboxes, and even your faithful last-ditch resort, the utility meters, are all devoid of numbering. You know you're in the right place, though, because when you look at the apartment numbers, you'll see this:
First floor: 18, 19
Second floor: 23, 24
Third floor: 27, 28
Say it with me now:
As it turns out, on other streets there are more buildings. The first floor starts at some number (the lowest I've found is 13), and the numbers stretch around all the buildings. When they run out, they start again on the second floor of the first building, and so on. There are four or five different buildings scattered around a two-block radius, with other apartment buildings in between. Yeah, it's a royally screwed up numbering system.
Bonus College Sighting
My last year at our community college, I was excited to be having a class in the new science building. I needed to find room 205, so I went down the corridor.
201...202...203...204...207....208...wait, what?!?
I went up and down, down and up the corridor, and could not find the elusive Room 205. I met up with some other lost peers, and we determined that we were indeed classmates seeking the same room, so we banded together and set off on our epic quest.
208...207...204...203...202...
Eventually we reached 201 and the stairs. Despairing, we were about to give up, when we noticed a small hall off to the side.
206...205!
Victory was ours!
As if Fate wanted to rub it in my face, every quarter that year I had at least one class in either rooms 205 or 206 in that building...Winter quarter I even had classes in both.
Comment