PlatKat.com: Last Night / This Morning

Wednesday, January 16, 2008

Last Night / This Morning

Yesterday evening I met some people for drinks and called it an early night (for me) around 11. Much to my dismay, I was awakened around 3am to the sound of someone's shitty stereo. Unable to ignore it and go back to sleep, I turned on the lights and assessed the situation.

I realize I'm somewhat sensitive to noise, but after living in my old (almost literal) trainwreck of a sublet last November, I figure I can deal with most things. That experience, and having lived in Midtown in Manhattan for awhile, desensitized me a little, so now it takes a lot more to rile me.

But riled I was. And even more so was I riled when a neighbor rang my doorbell, assuming I was the culprit. I opened the door wider so he could see my semi-dark, dead-silent apartment.

I looked at him as if to say, "Are you fucking kidding?" but I really said, "Honestly? What do you think is going on in here? I was trying to sleep as well."

Not understanding the concept of "recognizing a mistake" or "leaving me the hell alone," he proceeded to tell me that the noise had woken him up, his wife is pregnant, and he wants to find out where the noise is coming from. Any idiot could do that, but apparently not this one. I knew exactly where the noise was coming from, and knew that I'd have to take care of it myself if it was going to stop.

I put on some sandals and a sweatshirt and grabbed a pack of Parliaments purchased earlier that evening. I don't enjoy confrontation much, but a cigarette sometimes takes the edge off. Also, should the confrontation become heated, it's a good commonality to share with your opponent. Like this:

"You're a dick!"

"Fuck you! You're a dick!"

"Okay, we're both dicks. Let's have a smoke and work this out."

So I got myself together and went downstairs. I walked to the apartment situated directly below mine, stood by the door, and listened for a moment. Yep, this here's the place. *knock, knock*

Music is turned off, skinny white guy answers the door.

"Hi, I live above you and your music has not only disturbed me, but also my neighbor and his pregnant wife. He came to my door thinking your noise was mine, and I am further disturbed. Don't let this happen again."

"I'm sorry," he replied in a lisp gayer than 12 pink ponies in a hot-n-heavy circle-jerk.

"This is the first and last time I will discuss this with you."

"I'm sorry," he repeated as I turned to leave.

Slightly jarred by my own intimidation, I went to the breezeway and smoked a Parliament. God, they're horrible. I normally smoke American Spirits, but my partner in crime wanted P-Funks and I was feeling agreeable (yes, it's possible). When you're used to smoking American Spirits, having a Parliament is like having your Bentley switched out for a Dodge Stratus. I smoked the first half, threw the rest away, and headed back to the abode to vigorously brush my teeth.

Before I could do that, idiot-neighbor cornered me in the hallway.

"I went upstairs and couldn't hear it," he reported.

"It was coming from 1012. I took care of it," I replied.

Nonetheless, he felt the need to keep talking to me. He continued to discuss how annoying the music was, reminded me of his pregnant wife, and tried to crack a joke that I was too tired and annoyed to understand. At that point, I couldn't decide who I hated more: the music fairy or this chatty asshole.

"You're obnoxious as shit and I'm going to bed now," is what I wish I'd said. But instead I said, "I'm going to bed now" and went inside.

The next time people ask me why I am so hostile toward my fellow man, I think I'll point them to this story.

Addendum: Maybe I was a little hard on the Parliaments. Instead of a Dodge Stratus, how about an older Chevy Tahoe? Is that fair?

posted by platkat @ 12:17 PM