The following story is true.
A long time ago, in a land far far away, there was a man. His name was Hunter. He had a friend named Jaro, and they saw each other through the darkest, and lightest, of times in their adopted home, named Budapest, Hungary.
Both men were steel headed and knew what they wanted, and said things that they thought were true. Most times, they were true. Some times, they weren’t. But not for lack of trying, or lying. They just did not know all possible meanings to the questions they posed.
One day, they decided something: they would live together in an unbeknownst flat. They figured with all the time they spent together, it would make sense that they should live together, because really, who wants to walk home in the dead of night in the freezing cold when they could walk across their living room instead?
Three weeks into their flat searching, the search was coming up dry. It was stressful, because each knew what they wanted, but they could not find what they were looking for. There was a strict set of rules they wanted to see implemented in this new flat, but each time they went to see a prospective property, it came up lacking.
Finally, a day came that would change everything. It was a Sunday. Hunter, tired of waiting for Szilvi, Jaro’s girlfriend, to find a flat that seemed un-findable, got onto the website that never seemed to fail. Craigslist.
There, upon chance, he saw something that was incredible, nay, indescribable, for the price. A flat in the center of the city, nearest the most expensive street in the whole of Budapest, for a pittance.
He emailed the proprietor immediately, stating that he was interested in viewing.
One day later, Hunter and Jaro, with their girlfriends, Noemi and Szilvi, walked through this flat wondering how it could be so good. And really, how could it be that good? The owner, named Sean, from Canada, seemed like a nice gay man with all the right answers. Everything Jaro and Hunter asked, he seemed to have the answer that both were looking for.
Within 10 minutes, they were negotiating the terms of the lease. It was too good to be true. Everything they were looking for in a flat, in the right neighborhood, for the right price, was placed in front of their face, on a silver platter. Both were ecstatic with the prospect of living in such an area, with such a nice flat, with such a knowing landlord.
They would say later to themselves that they could see themselves hanging out with Sean, kicking it in some unnamed bar and laughing at some rude joke.
One week later, Jaro and Hunter sign a lease, right in their nice new future flat. Everything seems to be working. Sean has all the paperwork, both the leases, in English and Hungarian, that is custom in Hungary.
Two weeks remain before they move in to the flat. Sean states that some things must be re-painted, but neither of the men are much listening. They are admiring the new digs around them. Things are going well for both Jaro and Hunter.
One week before they are supposed to move in to their flat, Hunter finds he must travel to Prague on a business trip a couple days before the set move in date. He relays this information to both Sean and Jaro, both of which acknowledge.
One day before leaving for Prague, and three days before the move in date, Sean tells both Jaro and Hunter that they can move in their stuff, but that they will have to wait until the actual move in date to, well, move in, because they are re-finishing the floors. Since Sean has kept in communication with Hunter and Jaro continually over the last three weeks, and being the nice guy that he is, they agree and thank him for the opportunity.
Hunter leaves for Prague, and waits to hear from Jaro, when he is lounging in the flat without him after moving in. Hunter thinks he will get a call, stating something like this: I’ve pissed in all the corners and now you’ll have to piss in the corners you want. Either way, the whole flat is mine and haha you are not here to stop me.
Or at least, something much funnier than this, but that seems funny in Hunter’s mind.
Instead, Hunter gets a very unnerving phone call from Jaro the day after Jaro is supposed to have moved in. It goes something like this:
I’ve got some bad news. I don’t know where Sean is. He’s disappeared. I keep trying to call him and he’s not picking up. I have no idea whats happening. I’m practically homeless at the moment, but this shit is ridiculous. That flat has all our stuff in it, and we’re not able to sleep in it? What the fuck is this shit?
To which Hunter dutifully replies: Wait, what?
Now both Jaro and Hunter are searching for answers where none exist. What IS going on? The next few hours Hunter cannot think straight, because his mind is trapped in the situation miles away, in Budapest. Still in Prague, he cannot deny the growing helplessness that grips his gut. No…. He couldn’t have.
On returning to his hotel room, Hunter grabs his laptop and proceeds out of his hotel room and into the stairs right outside the lobby. The wifi signal has decided to boycott his room, so he is forced to sit on the stairs and write a thoughtful yet condescending email to Sean while listening for people who are approaching, wary of the looks he might receive while sitting on the stairs outside the lobby, writing an email.
He hits send, and takes a deep breath. This should all be over in a… and then, there is an email in his inbox, instantly.
Send failed. Recipient’s email does not exist.
That was Sean’s email back, because his email was deleted.
Now Hunter is finally seeing the big picture, and just as he drops his hand into his pant’s pocket to call Jaro, Jaro calls him.
You’re not going to believe it, he starts. But Hunter already does, though he is still in shock.
The lease, worth something around $1,400 with 2 months deposit and first month rent, is gone. Sean Kirkham, if that is his real name, has just conned two Americans in Budapest out of a shitload of money.
Later, Jaro calls Hunter to tell him the story keeps unfolding, that there were multiple people who were in the same predicament: They all signed leases and gave over their hard earned money. They all were caught with their pants down.
Later still, Jaro calls again to tell him that now its official, that he absolutely knows they were fleeced. And how is that, Hunter wonders aloud. Because the owner is coming to the flat now to open the door, to let us get our stuff.
For a second, this doesn’t make sense. What do you mean, the owner? Sean owned the flat.
No, Hunter, he didn’t. He never owned shit.
Much later, Jaro calls for the last update. He tells Hunter that their bags and boxes with all their belongings have been ransacked. Some have been stolen, but its still not clear what. Hunter asks about his most important items he knows were stored in his suitcase, but Jaro cannot be sure. All the contents of their bags are strewn across the floor. It’s like carnage, he keeps saying.
Hunter sits in a restaurant, a restaurant from his past, when he used to live in Prague, when things looked peachy to begin with. But as he learned, the life that was supposed to happen in Prague never happened. And as he clicks off the phone, he sits watching all the smiling and laughing faces around him, and wonders about the future.
Ahead of him, there are many things he can see, but what he cannot see, is where he will be sleeping the night he gets back to his home, Budapest. That place, was supposed to be reserved for his new and tidy room in Sean’s flat, but was so forcefully shattered by the enigma that was Sean, a con artist that caught the best of them.
Hunter recalls what should have been a flashing light in the darkness, showing them the way. Fifteen minutes after looking at the flat, and agreeing with Sean about the price and time of move in, Jaro, Hunter, Szilvi and Noemi sit at a small bar on Andrassy ut, the most expensive street in Budapest. What they think is their new flat is just around the corner, and they are all glowing with the discovery that they finally are moving up in the world.
Everything seemed to working. Everything seemed to be right. And Jaro says: It just seems too good to be true.
And we should have listened.
A long time ago, in a land far far away, there was a man. His name was Hunter. He had a friend named Jaro, and they saw each other through the darkest, and lightest, of times in their adopted home, named Budapest, Hungary.
Both men were steel headed and knew what they wanted, and said things that they thought were true. Most times, they were true. Some times, they weren’t. But not for lack of trying, or lying. They just did not know all possible meanings to the questions they posed.
One day, they decided something: they would live together in an unbeknownst flat. They figured with all the time they spent together, it would make sense that they should live together, because really, who wants to walk home in the dead of night in the freezing cold when they could walk across their living room instead?
Three weeks into their flat searching, the search was coming up dry. It was stressful, because each knew what they wanted, but they could not find what they were looking for. There was a strict set of rules they wanted to see implemented in this new flat, but each time they went to see a prospective property, it came up lacking.
Finally, a day came that would change everything. It was a Sunday. Hunter, tired of waiting for Szilvi, Jaro’s girlfriend, to find a flat that seemed un-findable, got onto the website that never seemed to fail. Craigslist.
There, upon chance, he saw something that was incredible, nay, indescribable, for the price. A flat in the center of the city, nearest the most expensive street in the whole of Budapest, for a pittance.
He emailed the proprietor immediately, stating that he was interested in viewing.
One day later, Hunter and Jaro, with their girlfriends, Noemi and Szilvi, walked through this flat wondering how it could be so good. And really, how could it be that good? The owner, named Sean, from Canada, seemed like a nice gay man with all the right answers. Everything Jaro and Hunter asked, he seemed to have the answer that both were looking for.
Within 10 minutes, they were negotiating the terms of the lease. It was too good to be true. Everything they were looking for in a flat, in the right neighborhood, for the right price, was placed in front of their face, on a silver platter. Both were ecstatic with the prospect of living in such an area, with such a nice flat, with such a knowing landlord.
They would say later to themselves that they could see themselves hanging out with Sean, kicking it in some unnamed bar and laughing at some rude joke.
One week later, Jaro and Hunter sign a lease, right in their nice new future flat. Everything seems to be working. Sean has all the paperwork, both the leases, in English and Hungarian, that is custom in Hungary.
Two weeks remain before they move in to the flat. Sean states that some things must be re-painted, but neither of the men are much listening. They are admiring the new digs around them. Things are going well for both Jaro and Hunter.
One week before they are supposed to move in to their flat, Hunter finds he must travel to Prague on a business trip a couple days before the set move in date. He relays this information to both Sean and Jaro, both of which acknowledge.
One day before leaving for Prague, and three days before the move in date, Sean tells both Jaro and Hunter that they can move in their stuff, but that they will have to wait until the actual move in date to, well, move in, because they are re-finishing the floors. Since Sean has kept in communication with Hunter and Jaro continually over the last three weeks, and being the nice guy that he is, they agree and thank him for the opportunity.
Hunter leaves for Prague, and waits to hear from Jaro, when he is lounging in the flat without him after moving in. Hunter thinks he will get a call, stating something like this: I’ve pissed in all the corners and now you’ll have to piss in the corners you want. Either way, the whole flat is mine and haha you are not here to stop me.
Or at least, something much funnier than this, but that seems funny in Hunter’s mind.
Instead, Hunter gets a very unnerving phone call from Jaro the day after Jaro is supposed to have moved in. It goes something like this:
I’ve got some bad news. I don’t know where Sean is. He’s disappeared. I keep trying to call him and he’s not picking up. I have no idea whats happening. I’m practically homeless at the moment, but this shit is ridiculous. That flat has all our stuff in it, and we’re not able to sleep in it? What the fuck is this shit?
To which Hunter dutifully replies: Wait, what?
Now both Jaro and Hunter are searching for answers where none exist. What IS going on? The next few hours Hunter cannot think straight, because his mind is trapped in the situation miles away, in Budapest. Still in Prague, he cannot deny the growing helplessness that grips his gut. No…. He couldn’t have.
On returning to his hotel room, Hunter grabs his laptop and proceeds out of his hotel room and into the stairs right outside the lobby. The wifi signal has decided to boycott his room, so he is forced to sit on the stairs and write a thoughtful yet condescending email to Sean while listening for people who are approaching, wary of the looks he might receive while sitting on the stairs outside the lobby, writing an email.
He hits send, and takes a deep breath. This should all be over in a… and then, there is an email in his inbox, instantly.
Send failed. Recipient’s email does not exist.
That was Sean’s email back, because his email was deleted.
Now Hunter is finally seeing the big picture, and just as he drops his hand into his pant’s pocket to call Jaro, Jaro calls him.
You’re not going to believe it, he starts. But Hunter already does, though he is still in shock.
The lease, worth something around $1,400 with 2 months deposit and first month rent, is gone. Sean Kirkham, if that is his real name, has just conned two Americans in Budapest out of a shitload of money.
Later, Jaro calls Hunter to tell him the story keeps unfolding, that there were multiple people who were in the same predicament: They all signed leases and gave over their hard earned money. They all were caught with their pants down.
Later still, Jaro calls again to tell him that now its official, that he absolutely knows they were fleeced. And how is that, Hunter wonders aloud. Because the owner is coming to the flat now to open the door, to let us get our stuff.
For a second, this doesn’t make sense. What do you mean, the owner? Sean owned the flat.
No, Hunter, he didn’t. He never owned shit.
Much later, Jaro calls for the last update. He tells Hunter that their bags and boxes with all their belongings have been ransacked. Some have been stolen, but its still not clear what. Hunter asks about his most important items he knows were stored in his suitcase, but Jaro cannot be sure. All the contents of their bags are strewn across the floor. It’s like carnage, he keeps saying.
Hunter sits in a restaurant, a restaurant from his past, when he used to live in Prague, when things looked peachy to begin with. But as he learned, the life that was supposed to happen in Prague never happened. And as he clicks off the phone, he sits watching all the smiling and laughing faces around him, and wonders about the future.
Ahead of him, there are many things he can see, but what he cannot see, is where he will be sleeping the night he gets back to his home, Budapest. That place, was supposed to be reserved for his new and tidy room in Sean’s flat, but was so forcefully shattered by the enigma that was Sean, a con artist that caught the best of them.
Hunter recalls what should have been a flashing light in the darkness, showing them the way. Fifteen minutes after looking at the flat, and agreeing with Sean about the price and time of move in, Jaro, Hunter, Szilvi and Noemi sit at a small bar on Andrassy ut, the most expensive street in Budapest. What they think is their new flat is just around the corner, and they are all glowing with the discovery that they finally are moving up in the world.
Everything seemed to working. Everything seemed to be right. And Jaro says: It just seems too good to be true.
And we should have listened.
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