I'm just waiting on a friend ...

It was a sunny day in late May as I perched on the steps to my New York third floor walk-up. A Friday morning, I think--10 a.m. 1998. The movers were already two hours late and as my U-Haul blocked off part of the street, double-parked with hazard lights flashing, I wondered just what the hell I was going to do. With the dozens upon dozens of boxes cluttering my tiny studio apartment.

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