On November 13, Felix Unger was asked to remove himself from his place of residence. That request came from his wife. Deep down, he knew she was right, but he also knew that someday, he would return to her. With nowhere else to go, he appeared at the home of his childhood friend, Oscar Madison. Sometime earlier, Madison’s wife had thrown him out, requesting that he never return. Can two divorced men share an apartment without driving each other crazy?
There’s a holdout in the Bronx, Brooklyn’s broken out in fights. There’s a traffic jam in Harlem that’s backed up to Jackson Heights. There’s a Scout troop short a child, Khrushchev’s due at Idelwyld… Car 54, where are you?
Well we’re movin’ on up, to the east side. To a deluxe apartment in the sky. Movin’ on up, To the east side. We finally got a piece of the pie. Fish don’t fry in the kitchen, beans don’t burn on the grill. Took a whole lotta tryin’ just to get up that hill. Now we’re up in the big leagues, gettin’ our turn at bat. As long as we live, it’s you and me baby, There ain’t nothin’ wrong with that. Well we’re movin’ on up, to the east side. To a deluxe apartment in the sky. Movin’ on up, to the east side. We finally got a piece of the pie.
Your tread must be light and sure, as though your path were upon rice paper. It is said, a Shaolin priest can walk through walls. Looked for, he can not be seen. Listened for, he can not be heard. Touched, can not be felt. This rice paper is the test. Fragile as the wings of the dragonfly, clinging as the cocoon of the silk worm. When you can walk its length and leave no trace. You will have learned.