I talked about my first apartment in NYC yesterday. The worst part about living in that apartment was my super. My super’s father-in-law owned the building, and the super and his wife lived in the apartment below me.
My super had short curly hair that looked like it had been permed, and was moderately overweight. Each morning he would leave for work at 3:00am on his motorcycle, which he would loudly rev outside of my window for 20 minutes, and would return around 1:00pm.
He was what Pittsburghers would call nebby. Just plain old nosy. He always wanted to know what was happening, as if he were the father of everyone in the building and all the tenants were his teenagers.
About half way through my lease, my roommate had to leave and we had some subleasing issues. Because of this, every time I had someone over to my place to hang out, he would come up the stairs the next day, knock on my door, stand there in a tank top with his hairy shoulders showing, smoking a cigarette, and ask me who had been at my place the previous evening. “What?!”, I said the first time he asked me, “Why do you care?”
I asked him to stop coming to my door as it was none of his business, but he continued to stop by about once a week for 5 months. It pissed me off to no end, so I stopped answering the door. When my lease renewal came up, I just moved out.
When I moved to NYC, I expected a bit of anonymity, and living above that super seemed like anything but. I am happy to say, I haven’t experienced a super like him since.