The first month in apt 216 was fantastic. Concrete block walls kept out unwanted neighbor noise and the little old lady who lives next door is a sweetheart.
Then one day that I was home, I heard pounding all around the perimeter of my ceilings. They were putting in new carpet in 316. A couple of days later, the “frat boys” moved in. We call them the frat boys because they have parties Wednesday-Monday nights. With the occasional Tuesday night thrown in.
The best assumption that we’ve made is that there are two college-aged guys living up there. We think so because Brad has gone up there twice to ask them to Turn. It. Down. and two different young men answered the door each time.
About a week later (on a week night no less) there was a roaring party going on upstairs. So we called maintenance. When the maintenance man knocked on our door 15 minutes later he told us that we were not the first to call on the neighbor upstairs. They were at least on strike two then.
Two nights later, Brad and I crawled in bed, prepared to wake up early for another day of work. About 10 minutes later there came a pounding on our door, since we were obviously not expecting anyone and we hadn’t buzzed anyone into the building, we ignored it.
But when the pounding continued, Brad stumbled out of bed to find our “friends” from 316 at our door. Their guest had attempted to throw a set of keys from the ground to their 3rd story balcony… but hit ours instead and stayed there.
Really? Why would anyone expect to throw a set of keys and actually have them hit a 3rd floor balcony?
So now that I have that out, feel free to use the comments section to share your bad neighbor tales.
OH I just despise bad neighbors. It’s so uncivil. When we were in Alliance we lived in the party apartments on Glamorgan. The apartment complex was designed with connecting doors between units in case your friends lived next door. Two guys with two very different although equally loud hobbies lived next to us. One guy would routinely blast rap music so loud it shook my coffee table. I could always hear him grunting over the music– I told myself for my own peace of mind that he had to be lifting weights. The other roommate would practice his guitar every afternoon. I’ll never forget trying to finish my SCE poster while listening to him play “Hand in My Pocket” by Alanis Morissette.
Thankfully now we live in a well-insulated, quiet complex. I think WE probably cause the only ruckus in the entire building, and that’s just when Luna barks at someone knocking on our door.
Oh boy are there stories I could tell about my college apartment! That may be another installation in a series about neighbors!
The happenings in 316 have made us ultra-aware of our noise levels (which are quite low).
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