The Apartment Fivers: Introduction
The first in a series of upcoming stories. Apartment Fivers is based on my experiences in Tampa and in college and, most importantly, experiences I've had with my beloved friends and ex-roommates.
Ah, well, so much has happened since my last entry! For one, I’ve moved OUT of Happy Time Apartments (Or Crappy Time Apartments, as I prefer to call it--I believe the nickname is pretty self-explanatory) and in with Margaret, Mike and Scott. I absolutely love it! We all get along so well--they are all like family--and it’s not so lonely anymore…
Candace Banks moved into Apartment Five in Tampa, Florida, on October 30, 2004, after doing an eight-month, one-bedroom stint at Happy Time Apartments (Where Gloom Doesn’t Pay Rent!). Apartment Five was her second apartment; her one-bedroom at Happy Time was her very first, and she had lived in it since initially moving to Tampa, which was in February of that same year. Despite the fact that her one-bedroom was her very first home outside of her parent’s house, symbolizing her transition from dependent youth to independent adult, Candace had no sense of regret or pangs of sentimental attachment upon leaving it. The place was absolute crap. Not the apartment itself, per se--it was actually fairly spacious for a one-bedroom, and airy, the interior being white-on-white--but the complex.
Happy Time Apartments was located on 30th Street, smack dab in the middle of one of Tampa’s many ghettos and a few blocks away from Busch Gardens. When Candace would drive home from work at night, she would carefully weave her way back to her apartment, keeping one eye on the street so as not to hit cars, and the other trained on the shady figures sitting on their stoops, smoking joints. And every night, without fail, Candace would hear sirens--either ambulance, police or fire truck--wail past on 30th Street. Perhaps the most unsettling sight, however, was the purple Oldsmobile with bullet holes permanently parked a few doors down. Honest-to-God bullet holes, too--not that decal crap you can buy in automotive stores.
Then there were her neighbors. The people who lived directly below her weren’t bad at all--a Spanish family whose members liked to sit outside their door in plastic lawn chairs and visit and wave to everybody coming from and going to their apartments. At midday, when she was home, Candace would hear salsa and meringue music leaking out of the open door below and catch wafts of the tortilla de patatas and empanadas that were being baked. She would hear somebody singing along to the music and she secretly wished to be invited over for dinner, just once.
The people who lived next door to Candace were a different story. She was never sure exactly how many people lived there--sometimes she would see a man that looked to be around 23, a girl of about 20 and a boy of about 14. Sometimes the boy would be missing in action for a few days, sometimes the girl would be. Sometimes there were additional people coming from and going to the apartment. Whoever did live there participated in weekly domestic arguments which were quite colorful and drew Candace to either her bedroom window or to the peep hole on her door, where she would watch with sick curiosity. On one occasion she heard their front door bang open and then slam shut several times, and when she went to investigate, she saw pieces of notebook paper and several books scattered all over the hallway that connected the two apartments. Candace never dared walk over and ask them to keep it down--the bouts never lasted long and besides, they were too much fun to watch. The one thing that did annoy her about her neighbors, however, were the late-night masturbation exercises. Sometimes Candace would wake up at 3 a.m. to light, rhythmic banging against the wall her bedroom shared with the apartment next door. She was convinced it was masturbation--the rhythm of the banging seemed way too fast for it to be sex, and she never heard a girl. She did, however, hear a male cry out one night and then the banging stopped.
Candace’s other problem was the cost of living. Florida may be noted as being a cheap place to live due to the absence of a property tax, but for a college kid working at Victoria’s Secret for seven dollars an hour, the $509 rent plus bills and grocery expenses were a huge financial burden. Living expenses were making a bigger and bigger dent in Candace’s paychecks and savings and she feared she wouldn’t be able to make it past the next year. So it was a relief when Margaret, Mike and Scott asked her to move in with them in their four bedroom place over at Park Place Apartments.
Candace knew Margaret from high school--well, technically middle school, but the pair didn’t develop a friendship until they started attending Taylor County High School. At first it was just a casual acquaintance--they would see each other within the context of their group of mutual friends, but during their junior and senior years they became close. Candace loved hanging out with Margaret--the latter always made interesting conversation and her humorous anecdotes concerning either one of their teachers or a boyfriend always got a smile, if not a laugh, from the former. Margaret, half-Filipino, was exotically beautiful, but there was so much more to her than just a pretty face--she was extremely intelligent and well-read and could debate anybody on any subject ranging from classic literature to contemporary politics. She was also extremely practical, which complemented Candace’s romanticized outlook on life.
Sometime during their senior year, the pair started growing apart. The reasons for their eroding friendship were petty and trivial, which, in high school, are the causes of a lot of broken relationships. By the time they graduated they weren’t speaking at all. Two years later, when Candace moved to Tampa to attend the University of South Florida, she found out that Margaret moved there to go to USF after graduation. They reconnected and became closer than ever before. That was also when Candace met Margaret’s fiancé, Mike.
When Candace first met Mike, she thought he was extremely introverted and boring. It was only because of Margaret’s promise, "When he gets to know you he’ll open up" that she bothered to keep talking to him. At her attempts to make conversation, he would give one-word remarks. Whenever she came over he was either at his computer, engrossed in a Star Wars video game, or burying himself in one of his comic books. Then, one day, Margaret’s promise was fulfilled. He opened up.
Candace was driving the trio to Blockbuster when the subject of the war in Iraq came up in the conversation.
"You know, you can make any name sound Middle Eastern by adding an ’al’ in the middle of it," said Mike.
Margaret giggled. "What?" asked Candace.
"Yeah, like my name is Michael Dix," said Mike, "but if you add an ’al’ to it, it’s Michael al Dix. See?"
"That’s so weird!" said Candace.
"Yours would be Candace al Banks."
"Mine would be Margaret al Vergara," said Margaret. "I think it has a nice ring to it."
"Well, it sounds better than Candace al Banks and Michael al Dix," said Candace.
After that, Mike wouldn’t shut up. He would sporadically do impressions of different stereotypes, such as the flamboyant gay man or the annoying Cockney English girl, catching Candace and Margaret off-guard and sending them into fits of laughter. Without a doubt, he was the comedian of the group.
Candace first met Scott Carpenter during her visits to Apartment 5, before she moved in. They saw each other sporadically, and never said anything more than a few hellos and how are yous. It wasn’t until after she moved in that Candace got to know Scott better. Scott was Mike’s polar opposite. On the surface, they seemed alike--they were both in the Army ROTC program at USF, and they both enjoyed Star Wars, Star Trek, DC Comics and superhero movies. However, that was where the similarities ended. Scott, who bared a striking resemblance to Edward Norton, was what Mike called a "disgruntled artist." He enjoyed reading books that didn’t involve explosions or superheroes, liked the occasional "chick flick" and voluntarily went to see plays and musicals. He also liked to play and write music, as well as write stories and poems. While Mike could be loud and abrasive, Scott was sensitive, quiet and thoughtful. However, he did possess a quick wit and a sarcastic sense of humor and could hold his own with Mike. The pair complemented each other quite well and were best friends. Mike jokingly called Scott his "heterosexual life mate." Although the group, which would come to be known as the Apartment Fivers (thanks to Candace), was comprised of people with very different and very strong personalities, Candace was sure that they would all get along famously, and that this was the beginning of a lifelong friendship. And if not, at least it beat living in Happy Time Apartments.
Candace Banks moved into Apartment Five in Tampa, Florida, on October 30, 2004, after doing an eight-month, one-bedroom stint at Happy Time Apartments (Where Gloom Doesn’t Pay Rent!). Apartment Five was her second apartment; her one-bedroom at Happy Time was her very first, and she had lived in it since initially moving to Tampa, which was in February of that same year. Despite the fact that her one-bedroom was her very first home outside of her parent’s house, symbolizing her transition from dependent youth to independent adult, Candace had no sense of regret or pangs of sentimental attachment upon leaving it. The place was absolute crap. Not the apartment itself, per se--it was actually fairly spacious for a one-bedroom, and airy, the interior being white-on-white--but the complex.
Happy Time Apartments was located on 30th Street, smack dab in the middle of one of Tampa’s many ghettos and a few blocks away from Busch Gardens. When Candace would drive home from work at night, she would carefully weave her way back to her apartment, keeping one eye on the street so as not to hit cars, and the other trained on the shady figures sitting on their stoops, smoking joints. And every night, without fail, Candace would hear sirens--either ambulance, police or fire truck--wail past on 30th Street. Perhaps the most unsettling sight, however, was the purple Oldsmobile with bullet holes permanently parked a few doors down. Honest-to-God bullet holes, too--not that decal crap you can buy in automotive stores.
Then there were her neighbors. The people who lived directly below her weren’t bad at all--a Spanish family whose members liked to sit outside their door in plastic lawn chairs and visit and wave to everybody coming from and going to their apartments. At midday, when she was home, Candace would hear salsa and meringue music leaking out of the open door below and catch wafts of the tortilla de patatas and empanadas that were being baked. She would hear somebody singing along to the music and she secretly wished to be invited over for dinner, just once.
The people who lived next door to Candace were a different story. She was never sure exactly how many people lived there--sometimes she would see a man that looked to be around 23, a girl of about 20 and a boy of about 14. Sometimes the boy would be missing in action for a few days, sometimes the girl would be. Sometimes there were additional people coming from and going to the apartment. Whoever did live there participated in weekly domestic arguments which were quite colorful and drew Candace to either her bedroom window or to the peep hole on her door, where she would watch with sick curiosity. On one occasion she heard their front door bang open and then slam shut several times, and when she went to investigate, she saw pieces of notebook paper and several books scattered all over the hallway that connected the two apartments. Candace never dared walk over and ask them to keep it down--the bouts never lasted long and besides, they were too much fun to watch. The one thing that did annoy her about her neighbors, however, were the late-night masturbation exercises. Sometimes Candace would wake up at 3 a.m. to light, rhythmic banging against the wall her bedroom shared with the apartment next door. She was convinced it was masturbation--the rhythm of the banging seemed way too fast for it to be sex, and she never heard a girl. She did, however, hear a male cry out one night and then the banging stopped.
Candace’s other problem was the cost of living. Florida may be noted as being a cheap place to live due to the absence of a property tax, but for a college kid working at Victoria’s Secret for seven dollars an hour, the $509 rent plus bills and grocery expenses were a huge financial burden. Living expenses were making a bigger and bigger dent in Candace’s paychecks and savings and she feared she wouldn’t be able to make it past the next year. So it was a relief when Margaret, Mike and Scott asked her to move in with them in their four bedroom place over at Park Place Apartments.
Candace knew Margaret from high school--well, technically middle school, but the pair didn’t develop a friendship until they started attending Taylor County High School. At first it was just a casual acquaintance--they would see each other within the context of their group of mutual friends, but during their junior and senior years they became close. Candace loved hanging out with Margaret--the latter always made interesting conversation and her humorous anecdotes concerning either one of their teachers or a boyfriend always got a smile, if not a laugh, from the former. Margaret, half-Filipino, was exotically beautiful, but there was so much more to her than just a pretty face--she was extremely intelligent and well-read and could debate anybody on any subject ranging from classic literature to contemporary politics. She was also extremely practical, which complemented Candace’s romanticized outlook on life.
Sometime during their senior year, the pair started growing apart. The reasons for their eroding friendship were petty and trivial, which, in high school, are the causes of a lot of broken relationships. By the time they graduated they weren’t speaking at all. Two years later, when Candace moved to Tampa to attend the University of South Florida, she found out that Margaret moved there to go to USF after graduation. They reconnected and became closer than ever before. That was also when Candace met Margaret’s fiancé, Mike.
When Candace first met Mike, she thought he was extremely introverted and boring. It was only because of Margaret’s promise, "When he gets to know you he’ll open up" that she bothered to keep talking to him. At her attempts to make conversation, he would give one-word remarks. Whenever she came over he was either at his computer, engrossed in a Star Wars video game, or burying himself in one of his comic books. Then, one day, Margaret’s promise was fulfilled. He opened up.
Candace was driving the trio to Blockbuster when the subject of the war in Iraq came up in the conversation.
"You know, you can make any name sound Middle Eastern by adding an ’al’ in the middle of it," said Mike.
Margaret giggled. "What?" asked Candace.
"Yeah, like my name is Michael Dix," said Mike, "but if you add an ’al’ to it, it’s Michael al Dix. See?"
"That’s so weird!" said Candace.
"Yours would be Candace al Banks."
"Mine would be Margaret al Vergara," said Margaret. "I think it has a nice ring to it."
"Well, it sounds better than Candace al Banks and Michael al Dix," said Candace.
After that, Mike wouldn’t shut up. He would sporadically do impressions of different stereotypes, such as the flamboyant gay man or the annoying Cockney English girl, catching Candace and Margaret off-guard and sending them into fits of laughter. Without a doubt, he was the comedian of the group.
Candace first met Scott Carpenter during her visits to Apartment 5, before she moved in. They saw each other sporadically, and never said anything more than a few hellos and how are yous. It wasn’t until after she moved in that Candace got to know Scott better. Scott was Mike’s polar opposite. On the surface, they seemed alike--they were both in the Army ROTC program at USF, and they both enjoyed Star Wars, Star Trek, DC Comics and superhero movies. However, that was where the similarities ended. Scott, who bared a striking resemblance to Edward Norton, was what Mike called a "disgruntled artist." He enjoyed reading books that didn’t involve explosions or superheroes, liked the occasional "chick flick" and voluntarily went to see plays and musicals. He also liked to play and write music, as well as write stories and poems. While Mike could be loud and abrasive, Scott was sensitive, quiet and thoughtful. However, he did possess a quick wit and a sarcastic sense of humor and could hold his own with Mike. The pair complemented each other quite well and were best friends. Mike jokingly called Scott his "heterosexual life mate." Although the group, which would come to be known as the Apartment Fivers (thanks to Candace), was comprised of people with very different and very strong personalities, Candace was sure that they would all get along famously, and that this was the beginning of a lifelong friendship. And if not, at least it beat living in Happy Time Apartments.
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