Good Credit (Part Uno)

“Well, she didn’t need it!”

My aunt was a trip. She’d see a new neighbor’s bike get stolen and laugh about it.

She didn’t call them new neighbors though. She had her own name for them.

Good credit!

Good credit because that is what it took to get an apartment nowadays. A realtors’ whole job was to find those “good credits” and make their landlords happy. Before, it was familial connections. Or it was just where you grew up. We didn’t know what credit was until the bills started coming in too hot and heavy. Growing up on the block was something you did; it wasn’t a dream to aspire too. To be fair, nobody actually wanted to be here. We all dreamed of moving away. Never sure what away actually was. I mean, we visited cousins in Pennsylvania, Connecticut and if we were lucky, Georgia. Those didn’t seem like real places though. My cousins always complained about it being boring out there anyways. We had a real love/hate relationship with our neighborhood. It did seem nice to have a backyard with grass though.

But, good credits? They wanted to be here. Maybe not exactly here, near here though. The rent was cheap for them. If it wasn’t, they’d get a roommate or, worst case scenario, use that good credit.

She’d lived in the neighborhood forever and had seen the changes first hand. Neighborhoods change. Her routine didn’t. Rain or shine, she would make her cafecito. Bustelo only. “I make it better than the bodega and definitely better than those good credits”. Cafe in hand, she would walk downstairs and just people watch. Juanita Jacobs in the flesh. Just chill and watch the city wake up. It was never too early for the first smoke (even if it was too early to brush her teeth, shower, and get dressed). She would pull up her throne, I mean chair, and in her moo-moo, I mean pajamas, start her neighborhood watch shift.

New York, the city that never sleeps. If you lived here, you knew that wasn’t entirely true. The city wakes up, slowly. Morning deliveries seemed to always be late. Yes there was traffic and you had the gym rats up early. Overall though, seemed like a lot of people were sleeping. No line at the bagel shop before 9. Good credit coffee shops had people going in and out, nothing too busy though. The train stops didn’t get really busy until about 9. I always wondered what kind of job these new people had because I know I always had to be at work before 9, for sure before 10. All this to say that New York definitely sleeps. Maybe less than other cities and probably not great sleep. It sleeps though.

Of course, there were people that were up early. The supers on the block would wash the sidewalks regularly, like they were growing a beautiful garden. I appreciated the cleanliness of this practice. I never understood it though. I also wondered what all that bleach was doing to the water system. If I really think about that I will just skeeve myself out, so I try not to think about that much. Bleach is probably better than most things going down there.

There was a natural lull in her day around 11. This is when she would go back in and get ready for real. All the people watching and judgment took its toll, so she needed to rest and freshen up. She said it wasn’t a nap; she was just resting her eyes for a bit and checking on her programs. I believed her because she would pick all the right prices on the “Price is Right” and could tell me about all the crazy cases on “Caso Cerrado”.

There is a scene in “old school” that perfectly summarizes the next part of Tia’s day, the first sip of beer. Will Ferrell’s character is walking through his friend’s home turned frat house and gets stopped by some future pledges. They offer him a beer funnel drink which he turns down at first because of his upcoming big day to Target. With very little prodding, he changes his mind and has “just one”. As they are setting him up for his next one, he says “once it hits your lips, it’s so good”. That is exactly how Tia felt everyday around noon. Una fria, nothing like it!