misAdventures of Workmonkey 3.0

On Monday night, I went up to a friend's apartment to help install her air conditioner. For those of you on the West Coast, the air conditioner scene in NYC is a true phenomenon. Every summer around this time, when temperatures begin to approach satanic asshole levels, people drag air conditioners out of their closets and attempt to lodge them in their windows. The air conditioners are built to fit snugly within window frames, though they rarely do, and when walking around the streets of Manhattan, you can see their metal asses loosely dangling out of windows everywhere, dripping mechanical sweat upon on all who pass below. I have no idea how half of them stay where they are, but somehow they do.

Those who know me should immediately recognize that asking me to install anything is a huge mistake. Sure, I'm a guy, but problem is, I suck at installing shit. Anything even remotely related to home improvement gets me all confused and pissed off. And anytime in my life I've tried to be a "guy's guy", I end up humiliating myself. Stubbornly, I play the role anyway. If a girl asks me to help her install something, I suck in my stomach, lower my voice and say "Of course, doll." Which is how I got myself into this situation in the first place.

Walking the five stories up to her apartment, I make sure to swing my shoulders widely and tell manly stories about driving monster trucks, fixing drill bits, and pounding beer. I play up the guyness, perhaps as a reaction against the knowledge that I was wholly fucked.

Luckily, when I got in to her place, I could see the air conditioner was already in the window. It just needed to be jimmied a bit to fit into the window frame a bit more snug. No problem, I figured. I didn't even need to lift anything, which is relieving, because I am a weak bitch, and lifting things in front of girls always makes me nervous. Wanting to appear confident and assured, I slowly roll up my sleeves so I can reveal my non-existent forearms, as any man's man would do. As an added bonus, the girl's sister is in town visiting, so now I have an audience of two chaste princesses eagerly watching their strong, brave urban knight install an air conditioner.

Things go south every quickly. As I begin to nudge the air conditioner further out of the window so I can attempt to snap it into the window frame, it starts to heavily pull down towards the concrete backyard five stories below. I reach around and grab the back of the unit to pull it back in, and feel a cold, sharp sliver of metal slice into both of my hands, as if a row of Great White Shark and alligator teeth have been randomly glued to the back of this very air conditioner. At this point one of the girls had to rush over to help me pull the AC back in. As she holds it, I release my hands from the back and bring them back towards me. Of course, eight of my ten fingers are bleeding badly, and i've left a noticeable blood trail smeared upon the dull white casing on top of the air conditioner. The sister starts to freak out when seeing my fingers. Fortunately, I am much too embarrased to feel any pain. I decline immediate help, and try to help the other girl pull the air conditioner back in. In doing so, I smear more blood upon her walls, drapes and my shirt. Suffice to say, this whole thing is going poorly.

At this point, the sister has returned from the bathroom with disinfectant and a bag of bandaids, and insists on attending to my fingers as I stand there blushing. The other one has simply closed the window and told me to forget about the AC -- she'll have someone else do it. Five minutes later, with eight bandaids on my fingers and a bloody shirt, I say my goodbyes and walk out the door.

Another success in the life of a true man's man.