I am writing this… tired. And… grumpy.
At 1:49 AM last night, a loud THUMP (resonating from the apartment above) yanked me from my slumbers. Whatever. It’s apartment living. Noise happens. The waking-adrenaline from such things stops being so dramatic after a while.
This noise, this night, however, was followed by the ever close, yet distant sound of rambunctious male laughter. Multiple males. And I knew it was going to get a lot worse.
A few weeks ago some young males moved into the apartment above mine. I have never seen these guys. I have only heard them spouting unending expletives mixed with what resembled actual coherent words from the balcony above mine, all while snorting giant loogies and hacking them endlessly over the edge.
All I know about these guys is that they are loud. They love to party. They love to drink. They love to crank the rap up high. They love hacking loogies. They love having tons of people over. They love doing all of this often. And they don’t give a crud what time of day or night they do it.
One night, about a week ago, they had their music cranked loud and high. It was after 2AM. I politely climbed the flight of stairs, knocked on their door, and surprise, surprise. They didn’t answer. The volume of their music turned down though, and that was good enough for me.
A few days before that, some other sort of shenanigans were happening in the room directly above Noah’s. It panicked him so much that I had no choice but to let him sleep in my bed, a fate guaranteed to land this Dad a restless night with how that kid can somehow do full gymnastics routines while he sleeps.
At 1:49 AM, last night, when that first thump and laughter made its way through my house and startled me awake, I knew from experience it would get worse. I just didn’t realize how much worse.
Noah was asleep in the next room. I was now awake. And from what it sounded like, only one of five scenarios was possible for what started happening up there.
- These guys were attempting to learn how to juggle. With bowling balls. And it was really funny to them.
- Or these guys were having their own WWF fight, complete with chair smashing, pile driving, and overly tight spandex suits. Hey. Don’t knock my imagination.
- Or these guys were “mattress launching,” an activity reserved for the truly youthful where a mattress is taken from a bed, placed in the middle of a large room or hallway on its edge, and two people run at it (one from each side), smashing into it simultaneously. One person inevitably launches backwards in whatever direction the force blows them. Sometimes both people get launched. I only know this because I was once young and stupid.
- Or these guys were being robbed, and beaten, and maybe even murdered, and they thought it was… funny?
- Or these guys were passionately stacking pallets of clean drinking water in their apartment, which they would be selflessly donating to third world countries. And they thought it was… funny?
I don’t know. Obviously those last two options were strictly included to show that I am a great not-fully-codger human being who has the ability to assume the best of loogie-hacking punks.
THUMP. RUMBLE. SMASH. LAUGH. CRASH. LAUGH. RUMBLE. REPEAT.
This went on. And on. And on. And on.