A nice, simple letter

Dear (I struggle to use the word "dear" here, so let's just say "dear" means "horrible awful") Next-Door Neighbor,

I don't have a bad attitude toward neighbors in general. In fact, I kind of like neighbors. I have plenty of good memories of my neighbors growing up in my hometown, like block parties and fresh garden vegetable exchanges. I even have some good memories of some (only some) college neighbors.

But you, you take the cake for probably being the worst I have had. A close second is only the lady-like and good-natured (sarcasm) ladies above my apartment living at The Grove, who would stomp around at 1, 2, 3, 4, 5 in the morning. When you moved in next door a few weeks ago, I held no stereotypes or judgment. It was simply another neighbor next door, taking the place of the quiet, non-music blaring couple that had lived there before.

A few days after your move, things changed. On a Monday night, at midnight, that's when we heard the music. And literally felt the bass thudding. So in went the ear plugs and up went the speed on our fan, yet we still could hear/feel your nonsense. Thinking we'd give you a chance to show that you are not that uncaring, my husband went to your front door and knocked. And knocked. Not sure if you couldn't hear the knock over your music, or just ignored him. So next was the phone call to the police department. We ended up somehow falling asleep before we knew of the police got there.

A few days later, on a Friday night, I dreamed that you were playing extremely loud music again and that many people were at your apartment yelling and laughing loudly, and that the bass was once again thudding in my pillow. I woke up and realized that it wasn't just in my dreams; it was reality. Jake lay there frustrated too. So another phone call to the police department ensued, at which time we looked at the clock: 2:30 AM. Half an hour went by and the police finally found your apartment in the complicated complex. We spied through the blinds a little and listened. Sounded like we broke up an underage party. Terribly sorry (not really).

After that it was relatively quiet for about a week or so. At least no obvious parties in the middle of the week. Until last night, a Wednesday night for that matter. We attempted to go to bed and noticed that you had music playing loudly again. So we put in our ear plugs, but the noise just increased, and so did the number of people yelling in your apartment. Midnight rolled around, then 12:30, so another phone call to the police department. At that point we had to move out to our living room to try to get some sleep until the police broke it up, yet when one is that frustrated and determined to teach you a lesson, sleep doesn't come easily. Finally the cops showed up and we heard them knock on your door. And knock. And knock. At the first knock, the music magically stopped, and so did all the talking and yelling. Several minutes passed and the cops left. After all, there's not much they could do if you don't answer the door. We though you would have learned from the first time the cops came. Actually, I suppose you did learn. You learned to not answer the door to cops anymore.

We thought the cops showing up had scared you and your pals into stopping the party, because quiet ensued for about 15 minutes. Then it started again. Peeping through the living room blinds, I saw at least 10 more people in the parking lot heading into your apartment. Great-looking young'uns too; one with his pants down to his knees, one with a muscle shirt, some girls dressed like...well, you know. One guy came out to greet these nice young folks, then looked right at our front door, pointed at it menacingly, and said something. I don't know what he said, but not going to lie; it scared me. The police were called again by my angry husband, and they were very understanding and said to keep calling even if they didn't answer the door to the cops.

Somehow the music and bass thudding lessened, and we somehow fell into a restless, paranoid sleep, all night thinking there was music playing and that you and your friends were going to break in to our apartment.

Rest assured that our apartment management was called this morning and a lengthy, detailed complaint was filed. Perhaps you missed the part in the lease that says "No Parties." Wonder how many warnings they will give you...

Sincerely,
Your friendly neighbor

P.S. I gave up my morning routine of coffee for Lent. After your little stunt last night, today is not a good day for being without it.