Michael Cuomo
Dispatches from Fort Greene Quarantine: Courage for Craig’s List Free
March 18, 2020: 8:07pm
“Hollywood Regency Solid Brass Hoof Feet Glass Top Coffee Table - Free Stuff!” zipped across my iphone screen with a feverish flash. Within seconds, my thumbs were bouncing off the keys at lightning speed, psychologically powered by those brass hooved feet racing down the stretch! “Hi my girlfriend and I LOVE your coffee table. We have a car and could pick up tomorrow at your convenience. I’m an actor and she’s a hair stylist and we’re based in Fort Greene near BAM. Here’s my cell! Cheers, Michael (blue heart emoji).” I pushed send and the “swoosh” sound careened off my bedroom walls filling me with that momentary euphoric sense of hope and pride like I had just scored the winning basket in the NBA Finals and suddenly Nike was calling to discuss my endorsement deal. Naturally, my euphoria almost immediately transitioned into panic, as I stared longingly at this shiny brass and beveled glass specimen of bliss, wondering if they would ever call. I suddenly empathized with all of the forlorn singles on dating apps who see a photograph, swipe right and proclaim true love all the while praying for some reassurance from Aphrodite, Eros, Psyche + Co.
As I sat down, there was yet another flash. This one read: “Beautiful Velvet Anthropologie Couch - Free Stuff.” Now, this was a stunning couch: a champagne-pink, mid-century modern velvet piece of perfection. To wit: Milo Baughman, Adrian Pearsall and the entire mcm gang of misfits would’ve gladly drank dirty gin martinis ‘til they all passed out on this puppy. Sure enough, directly in front of the couch was the same brass coffee table of my dreams (hoof feet and all) on full display, like a proud racehorse strutting her stuff at the Preakness! OK, so here was my chance to write them a second time, say I wanted both pieces, mention my prior email (without sounding insane) and increase my odds. Except for one minor detail --- I did not need a couch. To complicate it further, the ad specifically stated that a team of “professional, licensed and bonded movers would need to be hired in order to safely move the couch down 4 floors of a historic building in the West Village. 10am tomorrow.” Damn.
And then it hit me: my dear friend Natalie needs to drink martinis on this couch, fall asleep to SNL on this couch, shag on this couch, basically never leave this couch. We texted and within minutes she was swooning for this luscious velvet masterpiece, “Bloody hell, it’s gorgeous. That’s my fucking couch! I’m in!” Fueled by Natalie’s fervor, my thumbs sprang into action yet again: “Hi! I just wrote in about your groovy coffee table and then I saw your INCREDIBLE couch. If still avail, we could hire an insured mover to pick up on Thursday. Once again, here’s my cell. Cheers, Michael (Red Balloon emoji).” I pushed send and another swoosh sounded, but this time I wasn’t justgoing to win the NBA Finals --- they were proclaiming me MVP!
I nervously paced the room wondering how I’d confirm a moving company by midnight, but then I thought, “hey it’s NYC, the city that never sleeps, anything is possible, even during a worldwide pandemic!” Just then, my phone went aglow with the latest news headlines: the infection rate was now starting to spread across NYC with newfound precision, innocent people of all ages were dying alone in hospitals and nursing homes, emergency room doctors and nurses didn’t have enough protective gear to treat the sick and Spain was now storing its mass dead on ice-skating practice rinks until the funeral homes could catch up. Was it all true? Was the world going to survive this? Should I be writing a Will? If there was ever a time for someone of import to stand up and objectively proclaim “Alternative Facts!” this was it!
Then, before I could plunge completely headlong into despair, the phone rang. “Hi MIchael? Hey it’s Holly. I received your emails. Both of them. Nice use of emojis. Oh yeah, those brass hooves are even cooler in person. (pause) So listen, if you’re serious about this, the couch and the coffee table are all yours. There’s some plants and other things too. Oh and if you need a pink flamingo shower curtain, this one’s by some famous designer. Chanel, maybe? Wait you’re from Baltimore? John Waters? Wow me too! (beat) So you have the movers booked, right? Oh right, you were waiting for me to call you. (pause) Well, I’m doing this for a friend who left for LA and everything needs to be out before the junk haulers come at noon tomorrow. The building is super historic and the co-op board would literally murder me if anything happens to the hallways --- that is, if I’m not already dead from the virus lol. Oh don’t worry, we’ll have tons of hand-sanitizer. Purrell partyyyyyy! (awkward beat) Ok so I’m going to get ready for bed soon, but I can count on you for 10am, yes? With movers. Great! Byeee.”
Split-Screen inner thoughts: What did I get myself into? All this over a fucking coffee table? Who cares if someone is selling one for $5K on 1st Dibs --- I want out! I don’t want to be invited to a Purrell party and I don’t need a designer shower curtain! I need a face mask. Moreover, first responders need face masks and gowns and face shields and god knows what else. The newly dead are homeless. Families need a hug. The world needs a vaccine.
***
When I arrived at 10am sharp, the apartment was flooded with scores of vintage goods treasure hunters buzzing about like peacocks with their newfound wares (my parents are antiques dealers, so I can typically spot another dealer across a subway car during rush hour ---- yeah it’s a secret talent). As promised, a masked Holly cheerily greeted me with a squirt of Purrell and a toothy smile that somehow radiated through her surgical mask with assistance from the gargantuan skylight above us. “Oh hey, you must be Michael. Your items are by the windows and I also put aside some kitchen supplies, a funky mirror and some plants. Oh and the shower curtain!” Moments later, the movers arrived and we dove into the abyss. At one I apologized to the squad leader Tony for calling him so late, especially during a pandemic. “Are you crazy? I was thrilled to receive your call,” he pronounced. “Everybody’s so freaked out right now --- our business is getting crushed. This whole virus thing is gonna go away in a few days and we’ll all be fine. Remember Ebola? Now that was scary. No chance for Corona.”
Turns out we pulled off the move relatively smoothly, despite one broken hallway window while maneuvering the couch down 4 flights of stairs. As the 100-year old glass crackled and soared down into the neighboring alleyway, I could already sense the fiery wrath of the co-op board just waiting to pounce like a sleeping dragon stirred from its cave. Then Tony and his team loaded the furniture onto the truck and I stole a lingering glimpse of those brass hooved feet being hoisted into mid-air nearly taking flight --- perhaps instead of horses, they were the hooves of golden unicorns. Either way, they shimmered in the late morning sun so unabashedly that I swear I witnessed a kaleidoscope of color nearly on par with the Northern Lights. I loaded 5 tall plants into my tiny car and headed back to Brooklyn, barely able to see what with the gangly white bird of paradise riding shotgun, emerald green leaves yawning with outstretched arms in every direction. I instantly named her “Birdy” and smiled as infrequent pedestrians consistently laughed at the sight of me awkwardly maneuvering the car despite my visual impairments. “Hey man, that’s a helluva lot of clean air for such a small car,” a man joked. “Enjoy it while it lasts!” Indeed.