A Closer View From The Crow's Nest: Tales From My Apartment>Act One-Howdy Neighbor!!!

Sometimes, the worst thing about living in an apartment complex is your neighbors. Sure they can appear all nice & friendly on the surface, but on the inside, look out! They have all the deviant desires of a school kid getting revenge by going to the teacher & tattle-tailing about something they couldn’t resolve on their own. My own workplace is like this, but I’m rambling.

Having moved from one suburb to another past summer was a real relief for me. Granted I had to pay a higher rent for a bigger place in a virtual one suburban transit bus area, I still really appreciate the quietness of the building. In fact, that’s what my landlord told me when I looked at the building to begin with, that it is a quiet building.

Humph! I remember my first few weeks of living in the building when at 8 am on a Saturday morning; there was live band practice on-going in one of the lower apartments in my building. Those drumbeats so clear, it was music to my ears, but probably someone complained & I never heard it again.

Then yesterday morning, I received a call for my landlord, telling me that my downstairs neighbor Annie, who lives directly below me, called him to complain about me playing my boom box a little too early for her delicate ears at 6:30am.

Well, housewife Annie, whose round as a medicine ball & wears a snot-green bathrobe every time I see her at night on her backside porch chain-smoking like a chimney in heat, couldn’t you have told me? You see me practically every night! Was it so hard for you to come up to me and say something like, “excuse me, your music is too loud for my virgin ears at 6:30am, I don’t get up until 9am to watch television, feed & take care my children & chain-smoke like a fiend until my live-in lover comes home & knocks boots with me until all hours of the night, could you please turn it down?” How is it that my throat-singing practice doesn’t bother you, but the music emitted from my boom box does?

Then there’s Loner Larson who lives directly above me, a divorced man who has to be in the know about all of his neighbors, kind of like a tapeworm that feeds off of everyone else’s spit & blood in order to survive. I remember meeting him a few months ago when the mice population exploded in my apartment & joking about it with him. He was not amused & seemed to feed off of my dilemma.

A few weeks before I left for New York City, just as I was emerging from my car & about to walk up the steps, up comes Loner Larson who engages me in conversation. Of course, the first thing he asks me about the mice. Then he looks into the backseat of my Saturn & asks me, “What’s that all about?”

I say, “Sorry?” (Very loudly).

“You know…” his voice trailing off.

I respond, “Pardon?” (Much louder than before).

“Your car’s backseat,” he mumbles.

“Oh,” I reply, “the storage locker I have is way overstuffed in the basement is so my car’s backseat acts as a second storage space.”

“Oh,” he coldly remarks and walks off.

It worries me that I have this kind of man living above me, after all, stupidly I told him I was going to New York City, wanted to know when I was leaving & returning. I even had an elaborate plan in the works, in the event the man decided to go peeping into both my car & my apartment. It’s called 9-1-1.


Then there’s the Wisconsin couple that lives in the apartment building opposite to me. The woman is very nice. Had a great, yet small conversation with her while retrieving my mail last November. However, her boyfriend doesn’t like me looking or talking to her. I believe that the proper terminology for his actions is defined as possessive jerk. Strange how I always find this in others outside the state of Illinois It also seems that this action appears to be in the genes of every Wisconsin male.

My former love Lyn, also from Wisconsin, of many years ago, before she dated me, used to date a lot of possessive jerks. Then, as she said while dating me, that I spoiled her because I was so nice to her. After we split up for good in the middle 1990s, she ended up hooking up with a possessive jerk. Married him too. Well, I guess if being verbally squandered was her desire, than so be it.

Lastly, there’s the really nice retired lady who let me use her phone when I accidentally locked myself out of my apartment this past winter. My front doorjamb was broken to begin with. It took the landlord a few weeks to fix it, after the fact.

I went around knocking on doors, but she was the only one who answered her door. Every other door I knocked upon didn’t bother to answer their door. Too busy watching television, I guess.

I had left my cell phone behind in my apartment, thinking I would be able to get back in, when I realized that that the backdoor’s security lock was on, your basic latch over the door & I couldn’t get back in. she was kind enough to make me tea, let me use her phone & engaged in lively conversation about my life & hers. Every time I see her now, either I’m going to work out at the gym or I’m going to work, she’s coming back from somewhere, we always wave hello to each other & exchange pleasantries, without being suspicious of each other.

What in god’s name has happened in this world we live in that we can’t even talk or be civil to our neighbors anymore? Is everyone a suspect these days? Are we all that scared of saying hello or what’s up? Is it so hard to strike up a little talk or conversation without looking so paranoid?