This does not bode well for my future living scenario. Scott came over tonight, as is our usual Tuesday night ritual. I made salad & pizza (ok, “made” is a little strong — I bought them & put them on dishes, does that count?) and we watched old “Sex & The City” reruns. Once again, there was much noise coming from the apartment upstairs — this time it didn’t sound so much like thunder, it was just sort of a general racket.
Around 10:00, I kick Scott out because I have to go to bed. He’s gone for about 2 minutes when my cell phone rings. It’s Scott. He’s in the parking lot, and he’s blocked in. I go outside to see what the deal is. There’s a silver BMW that has basically double-parked at such an angle so that all of my little nook’s visitor parking spots (there are 4) are all blocked in. Scott, ever trying to be the sweet non-confrontational guy that he is, figured that he would just try to squeeze his car around the BMW and work his way out. In the process of trying to do this, he hits a concrete retaining wall & gives himself a flat tire. I figure I’ll try to make some racket to bring the owner of the BMW outside. I intentionally set off my own car alarm & lean on the horn. No response. Which figures, because I live within earshot of the intersection of 2 major freeways, and the apartments are pretty well insulated so you never hear all the road noise. So I try hopping on the beamer, figuring I might set off its alarm, which surely the owner would recognize. No luck (even when I jumped butt-first onto the hood).
Finally I decide I’ll go knocking door to door, starting first with the people whose lights are still on (it is after 10:00 on a Tuesday night, after all). I try the guy who lives next door to me. He comes to the door in his boxer shorts — the TV is on & he looks slightly stoned. He says he doesn’t know anything about a BMW. Fine. Then I realize that noisy dude upstairs has his lights on. I run up there & knock. Pause. No response. Knock again. I see a shadow in the window next to the door & I see the light behind the peephole go dark & then light again. Still no response. I yell “Hello?!?!!!” and finally he opens the door. This is not the old dude who used to live above me, much to my surprise. This is a young guy, probably in his early 20’s, kind of cute in a vacant-looking sort of way. Actually, something about him reminded me of my brother. This is not to imply that my brother is in any way a vacant guy — on the contrary, he’s a very deep, sensitive, kind, warm-hearted soul. But sometimes he gets a look on his face that makes you wonder if anyone’s home.
Anyway, turns out that Noisy Upstairs Guy is a new tenant (I caught a glimpse of a box spring on its side in the living room — I guess that explains the noise factor) and naturally, yes, he is also the owner of the BMW. He comes out & moves it, and apologizes for the inconvenience, which was nice. Then I sit in the parking lot with Scott while he changes his tire. Sitting, of course, being the only thing I can contribute to a tire-changing scenario. I have a cell phone & a AAA membership, but other than that, I’m not much help.
One thing that struck me is that Noisy Upstairs Guy seems really young to have that kind of car, I’m guessing it was a college graduation present from Mommy & Daddy. In any case, that double parking business is rude as hell, and he better watch his little beamer yuppie ass or he’s going to find a flaming bag of Teenie poop on his doorstep someday.
Yeah yeah, I know, I get grumpy when I’m sleep deprived.