Not This Time
24
Tenants’ Union
THINGS EVENED OUT. By summer, I was into my routines and we were planning a genuine family vacation. Yes, after the first time Bruce had convinced us to go to Lake Superior for a long weekend, we’d tried pretty successfully to make regular outings for a weekend or a week to just be together. This was a biggie, though. We were going to Disney World.
The ad on television was cute, but already two weeks before time to go, Emily was too excited to sleep. Her head was filled with Mickey Mouse and Princess Aurelia. She so wanted to be a Disney Princess. I came home one Tuesday afternoon to find her wearing a tiara, tutu, and waving a magic wand.
“I’m a princess!” she declared as I entered the house.
“You sure are,” I said. “Where did you get all this finery, Princess?”
“Let’s see if this cape works,” Bruce said, coming out of his office/workroom. “Well, hi, darling! Didn’t know you were home. What do you think of our princess?” He fastened the cape around her neck and Emily started spinning in the middle of the room.
“See my flare-out, Mommy!” she screeched.
“Oh, my! Someone has raided the costume shop,” I laughed. “Bruce, you are a genius.”
“Well, we might not get her out of it to go to bed,” he said, “but look at our little princess.”
“You’re such a good daddy!” I kissed him soundly.
“Mommy! You’ll make him a frog!” Emily squealed.
“I am not the wicked witch, little girl. I’m the kindly fairy godmother.”
From that point on, it was almost impossible for any of us to sleep at night. Bruce had three weeks off before he started the summer show at the college. I think he spent the entire time designing and sewing our girl costumes that she could wear to Disney World.
I, on the other hand, had been invited to speak to a new group in the Loring Neighborhood. I had to prepare a presentation to give right before we left on the trip. They called themselves the Loring Neighborhood Alliance and they’d called to ask me to speak about the new lighting that was planned for the park. We’d been working on better lighting that would make the neighborhood safer. I had heard concerns that it would be so bright that people would not be able to shut it out of their apartments and condos, so I’d prepared a nice PowerPoint presentation that would show how it would fully cover the park, but would be soft enough that none of the neighboring units would be affected. I was happy to see that the people in the neighborhood were taking an active interest.
Until we got to questions and answers.
“How long do we have before you drive the rest of us out of the neighborhood,” an irate older woman demanded.
“I beg your pardon? Who is driving you out of the neighborhood?” I asked.
“You and your condominiums!” she answered. “Some of us can’t afford to buy a home. We’re barely hanging onto our rent. Where are we supposed to go when you’ve converted everything in the neighborhood to condos?”
“We’re not actually intending to convert everything,” I said.
“That’s not what we heard,” a fellow in a business suit said as he stood. Everything about him screamed LAWYER!
“Perhaps you could tell me what you’ve heard and I can find answers for you. This isn’t actually a subject I came prepared to talk about tonight, but I’ll listen to your concerns and come back with answers.”
The floodgates opened. I sat for the better part of an hour listening to complaints and threats from what had obviously become a tenants’ union. I knew that when Jim started renovating the neighborhood, he was highly criticized for displacing lower class people as he brought in richer people who could afford the new rents. The improvement had been so gradual and so successful, though, that the criticisms faded and Loring Neighborhood became an example of urban renewal.
The same arguments were being posed by the neighborhood alliance. These people weren’t even all tenants of Loring Properties. But they’d ‘heard’ that we evicted people, painted the walls, and sold the properties for prices no one could afford. They’d ‘heard’ that in the initial reconstruction phases, fifteen to twenty years ago, Loring had evicted everyone and hired security forces to keep the homeless out of the park. Frankly, I’d never heard some of the accusations before and, while I suspected they were fabrications, I could see that Jim might have stepped on a lot of toes that were coming back to kick us now.
“I’m Leon Briggs,” the guy in a suit said. “I represent the Loring Neighborhood Alliance and you will be hearing from us in court.”
“Mr. Briggs, I think there is little to be accomplished in court. I’ve collected the information presented tonight and I will investigate each question so that we can reassure people. It’s not our intention to be adversaries with the neighborhood.”
“Good intentions aside, you’ve already become our adversary. We want to save the neighborhood and you are trying to change it. We’ll take every step necessary to recoup our expenses in fighting you and to compensate the people for what you’ve taken.”
Oh, good God. He planned to use the alliance to get rich off of Jim. Maybe me, too. I went over the plans in my head. It was almost time to close the doors on our conversions anyway. I just prayed that Jim would understand.
I whistled. Loud. It doesn’t make any difference if you live in the country or in the city, around Fargo everybody learns to whistle. High and piercing. Everybody milling around in the room before going home stopped and looked up. Briggs rubbed his ears.
“Listen up, people. And make sure you get the word out to everyone else who was here tonight. There are currently 127 units permitted in the greater Loring Neighborhood for renovation. Eighty-four of those are in buildings in which condos have already been sold. Your attorney, assuming that Mr. Leon Briggs represents this alliance, has informed me that he plans to file undefined suits in court,” I said. Several people looked surprised. “I was not aware that the Loring Neighborhood Alliance had a formal structure and had hired an attorney to take this action, but I have heard your concerns. As of tonight, I am halting all redevelopment construction plans and all further condo conversions beyond the 127 that are currently permitted and in progress. I will need the official paperwork for your organization so we can negotiate your concerns legally, including the appointment of Mr. Briggs as your attorney in fact. We are now frozen.”
I closed my laptop and walked out.
“You what?” Jim screamed over the phone. I didn’t waste any time getting home and calling him. Nor did I bother repeating what I’d already said.
“It’s time to pull out, Jim. You should put the entire neighborhood on the block and get out. We’ll focus all our energies on The Mill. Most of our energy is there anyway. This market is played out. The formation of a tenants’ union is the first sign that a benevolent dictator is about to be executed.”
“Well, fuck. How much money does a guy need, anyway? You probably handled this correctly. I just wish I’d known in advance.”
“I wish I’d known in advance. They got me there to talk about the park lighting and then ambushed me.”
“What’s your take on Briggs?”
“I think he overstepped his bounds and that no one actually appointed him as their attorney. If he actually files any papers or lawsuits, be sure the court is explicit regarding who he represents. I wouldn’t put it past him to have filed an incorporation for the alliance without having spoken to anyone and that he is the only one on its board,” I said.
“Wouldn’t be the first time someone tried something like that, I suppose. Get some sleep and I’ll see you in the morning.”
“No can do,” I said. “I’ve given you everything I’ve got. Now I’m going to Disney World.”
“Tomorrow?”
“Tomorrow.”
“You need to…”
“No.”
“Fuck.”
Poor Emily. We had to get up early to catch the plane to Orlando. We’d be gone a week, so I’d hired a limo service to pick us all up and get us to the airport. It was cheaper than the shuttle with four of us traveling. Except for the clean-up.
Emily threw up in the back seat.
I carried her as Bruce and Lily struggled with our luggage and got us checked in for the flight. Emily alternately sobbed and slept on my shoulder. We headed down the gold concourse and she threw up again. She had a fever—or I did. I wasn’t sure which of us was hottest. Someone from maintenance showed up with a mop filled with disinfectant that turned the stomach of everyone at the gate.
“We just got a little over-excited, didn’t we, baby?” I said. “It’s all that thinking about Mickey Mouse and Princesses. But soon we’ll be there and we’ll have so much fun at Disney World!”
“I don’t want to go to Disney World!” she sobbed. Oh, God! What to do now? She passed out against my shoulder again and I talked it over with Bruce and Lily. Should we cancel the trip? Should I take Emily home and Bruce and Lily go on? They looked at me like I’d grown another head. Why would they go to Orlando without Emily? We were still talking about our alternatives when they started boarding the plane. She was still asleep, so we boarded the behemoth. We had four of the five seats in the middle of the aircraft. I got Emily strapped in. Bruce sat on one side of her and I sat on the other. Lily held my hand and the plane took off.
We’d lined up all the barf bags in front of Emily’s seat, just in case. After her last two pitches, I didn’t think there was anything left in her stomach to vomit, but we’d only been in the air long enough for the seatbelt light to go off before Bruce was holding a bag in front of her.
Crying babies on airplanes. Such a cliché. Emily shook her head because her ears plugged while Bruce was disposing of the bag. A flight attendant brought us some ginger ale. Emily passed out again just before the plane hit an air pocket and we were practically thrown out of our seats. The fasten seatbelt light came on again. I was secure. I was pretty sure that Lily couldn’t be dislodged from the grip she had on my hand. Bruce reached across Emily and laid a hand on my shoulder, his other hand joining mine on Emily.
It’s only three hours from Minneapolis to Orlando. We were thrown around in our seats for five of them. I’d never flown before and as of the moment we touched down, I swore I’d never fly again. And I had no intention of riding ‘Thunder Mountain’ at the park.
As shaken as Bruce, Lily, and I were with stomachs that refused to settle down, Emily woke up when we landed and seemed to be pain free. Bruce got our car, we installed the car seat, and he chauffeured us to the condo we’d rented. All any of us wanted to do was collapse in bed.
Except Emily. She quickly explored the condo and then screeched, “Mickey Mouse!” She was ready to go to the park.
Suffice it to say that we had a fantastic time. I’d sprung for four-day super passes to both Disney World and Epcot Center. MGM Studio was thrown in. And a waterpark. I think we had more fun on the waterslides than at the theme park. But we did it all. There were only three rides that Emily was too small to go on, but she loved the kiddie rides like ‘Dumbo’ and wanted to ride it over and over. Bruce stood in line with her while Lily and I screamed our heads off on ‘Space Mountain’.
We met a couple at the waterpark who had a handicapped daughter. The little girl was great in the water, but had to use crutches and braces when she was walking. She and Emily hit it off right away and the dads were relegated to carting the girls to the top of the waterslide and holding them in the inner tubes as they came racing down the turns. The three moms got to relax and just enjoy the sun. The next day at the theme park, we joined up with Burt, Grace, and Clara. Clara had a wheelchair so she could get from ride to ride. That got her in a special line that cut ahead of everyone else. Clara and all her party of five adults and two kids. We rode a lot more that day and joined the family for dinner again.
Part of the ‘hospitality package’ at the resort was a two-hour pitch on buying their timeshares. What a deal. The two-bedroom unit we were in sold for just $20,000 for a week in the summer. Deeded property. But wait, there’s more. For just an additional $4,000 we could add the adjoining third bedroom efficiency. Exchange would be for two weeks anywhere else. I shook my head in amusement. I sold condos for a living. Not timeshares. I knew the costs of maintenance fees, upkeep, and staffing for a luxury conversion. I sold the best three-bedroom units for as much as $400,000 with an annual maintenance fee of nearly $2,000. This group sold a week for $24,000. Let’s see, times 52. That meant the unit sold for $1,248,000. Oh, but maintenance fees were just $700 per year. Times 52 owners, that comes to $36,400 per year. I always check real estate prices wherever I go. It’s just a force of habit. A million dollars could buy four penthouse suites overlooking the lake with annual maintenance of about $1,200 each. And I could rent it to vacationers for $1,000 a week. Timeshares were a rip-off.
But the pressure was on. Finally, the sales manager came out to put the screws down.
“Now, Mr. and Mrs. Wayne,” she began.
“Oh, we’re not married,” I broke in. “We three just live together.” I smiled sweetly at her. She scowled at the sales associate who had failed to qualify us at the beginning of the spiel ninety minutes ago.
“Three?” she said. Only Bruce and I had gone to the presentation while Lily took Emily to the pool to meet her new friend.
“Yes. Our lover is with my daughter at the pool. Is that a problem?”
“I’m sorry, but these presentations are only supposed to be given to married couples,” she said. “It appears that we have taken a great deal of your time for nothing.”
“Oh, it was very educational,” I said.
“Please accept the welcome gift of a fruit basket and enjoy the rest of your stay.”
“Doesn’t that come with a bottle of champagne?” Bruce asked, eying the display. The sales manager sighed and nodded.
“Please come back when you are married,” she said as she nodded and turned away.
“Right,” I whispered.
It was four weary travelers who boarded the plane at the end of our weeklong vacation. I forgot all about my vow to never fly again and it was a quiet trip back to the Twin Cities. I loved my family and I felt so close to Bruce and Lily and Emily. Aside from the sales pitch for the timeshare, we’d spent a week just being a normal family. We’d even made friends with a family from Illinois that I was sure we’d be seeing again.
Comments
Please feel free to send comments to the author at devon@devonlayne.com.
