What started as a plan to protect each other’s packages in downtown Phoenix turned into a friendship with the kind of spontaneous hangouts that often become rare–and proof that renter life doesn’t have to feel isolated.
This story first appeared in Rent Check PHX, a biweekly newsletter made for Phoenix renters, written by someone who’s lived it. Sign up for it here.
Is anyone else tired of feeling like they have to schedule hangouts with friends weeks in advance?
I found myself feeling this way a lot in my last living situation, and I realized distance played a big role. Driving from Phoenix to, say, Chandler to see a friend might not seem like a huge hike—but it’s also not something easy to do multiple times a week, especially on weekdays when you’re battling rush hour traffic on the 10.
Distance also makes spontaneity nearly impossible. A half-hour drive on the freeway takes way more energy than knocking on a neighbor’s door or running into someone at the bar down the street.
When I’ve lived in apartment complexes in the past, they felt transient and anonymous, and it didn’t feel worth it to try to form a relationship with neighbors. But when I moved into my current rental in downtown Phoenix two years ago, I decided this time was different. I was going to at least try making friends with people who lived close by—and the easiest place to start was next door.
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In my small complex, the parking spaces are assigned—and ours sit next to our neighbors’. Because of that, my partner and I often ran into the family of four in the adjoining unit. We exchanged waves and smiles a few times, and one day, when I had a little more time, I stopped to introduce myself to the woman living there.
I gave a small pitch: “Hi, I’m Jess, and I just moved in next door. I’d love to swap numbers with you—we’ve had some issues with getting packages stolen, and we’d be happy to pick yours up if you ever need us to!” Leading with an offer of help felt easier than immediately asking if we could be friends. And what I said was true: We had lost packages, and forming a mutual alliance against porch pirates helped all of us.
I could have made this introduction, swapped numbers, and then had no further interaction. But luckily, that’s not what happened.
My partner and I started a group chat with them, mostly for neighborly things—packages, noise checks, and the occasional heads up about First Friday police activity. We also continued to stop for chats in passing. After our neighbors had their second child, my partner and I gave them a card and honey from our local farmers market.
I don’t remember who made the first move, but eventually we all started hanging out and inviting each other to parties and events. My partner and I joined them at their cabin in southern Arizona for their oldest child’s fifth birthday, which was a special experience. What started out as a hope to be friendly had progressed into spending a weekend away together!
Most of the time, though, our hangouts don’t involve any planning. Someone will text the group that they’re heading out for a drink or a bite and wondering if anyone would like to join. I’ve had rough days turned around by impromptu after-dinner pie runs to Welcome Diner, which usually means walking hand-in-hand with our neighbors’ kid as he tells me the latest bug facts he’s learned.
Beyond the social element, the relationship is practical, too. We frequently grab each other’s packages, as I first promised, but we also let each other know if our garage door is open, give each other a heads up about nearby road closures, and ask for advice on changing internet companies or hiring a dog sitter.
It’s odd for me to think about how different things would be if we had never moved beyond the wave-and-smile stage. I’m grateful we all spent the little time and energy it took to build something warmer—something that lasts after we’ve moved on from this rental.
