Not exactly a warm welcome

I got to Philadelphia and it rained. For a week. And it was much colder than normal for late April. And I saw my new apartment for the first time.

Then, the movers couldn’t get into little Quince Street. That was a disaster. Anything that could’ve gone wrong that day did. Read on.
They called when they were close, but their truck was eight feet wide. Vehicles more than seven feet wide won’t fit past poles or trees on the sides of the street. Then they walked over and saw how they’d have to maneuver things inside the basement-level unit from the outside.

 
The movers said it would cost $1,300 or so to load everything into a smaller truck and get close, but they couldn’t guarantee everything would fit inside.
I didn’t want to go along with that, so they said they’d take everything to the Atlas warehouse in Wayne, which was also bad. The stuff would have to be lifted by forklift at that place’s convenience and I wouldn’t be able to get to any of it. And I was supposed to start work in three days. With no clue when and how I’d pick it all up, or how much it would cost.

 
Turns out, the driver didn’t know what he was talking about.
It would simply cost $130 for another stop, so they took everything to a U-Haul storage facility in South Philadelphia.
Of course, the big unit I wanted — and had an online reservation for — didn’t exist. I could’ve gotten two smaller units next to each other, but the moving guy’s boss back in Bristol didn’t think it would be necessary to get both. It was. By far. So somebody else took it. And the place was completely booked otherwise. (Still was, a week later.)
 

So the unit was way too small for my stuff. My friend Scott had been a big help. He spent a week looking for a place for me to live.
Scott suggested renting a U-Haul moving truck since we were already there, but that also filled up quickly. Then we got a second moving truck. (Both were seven feet wide. Luckily, I didn’t have to back up. That wouldn’t have happened.)
Eventually, the movers loaded everything into the storage unit, the two moving trucks and also Scott’s car (which had more room than mine) – and it was still tight.

We did alright watching the movers, monitoring what went into the storage unit, and took most of what I needed. But not all. (See next post.)

Then we drove off. My friend Tony helped with the heavy lifting from the car and trucks into the apartment.

 
Eventually, everything was inside.

And we drove the trucks back.

Coming up next: the car situation. (And yes, things improve somewhat.)