The Worst Neighbor Ever

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My next-door neighbor decided to watch a loud war movie at 4:30 in the morning. We both got to enjoy it thanks to the paper-thin walls of our apartment complex in West Campus.

I think it was a Michael Bay movie, or The A-Team, or something with Arnold Schwarzenegger. Whatever it was, it had lots of explosions, gunfire, and shouting—a nightmare for somebody with work at 8 am. (Although a nightmare might mistakenly imply that sleep is involved.)

As I lay in bed at 4:35, staring at the ceiling fan going round-and-round, a flurry of thoughts passed through my brain regarding this neighborly situation:

  • I have to do something.
  • An injustice like this cannot standIt’s un-American to keep thy neighbor up at night! Isn’t that part of the 10 commandments or something? 
  • Man, that actor’s voice sounds so familiar. Could it be Charlie Sheen? No, that’s not possible…
  • Where is that old bastard who calls the police every time me and my friends get together to play poker? This must be at least as loud as our weekend poker games—and at least those weren’t on a weeknight!
  • Would cops even come at this hour? Is this something you can call 911 on? 

Something had to be done. But what? It was already 5 AM by now, and all of the thoughts in the world weren’t getting me any closer to sleep. And now it was 2 hours until my alarm. Crap.

The cops wouldn’t help. And that would take too long. I knew I had to go over and talk to this guy myself.

And so, after working up my courage—which took a few more minutes of self-encouragement—I walked out of my apartment and over to this asshole’s door.

I stepped outside into the cold—wearing nothing but my wonderful, free Housing Scout t-shirt and an old bathing suit (it’s laundry day, sue me)—and knocked hard on the door. I had to knock loudly enough so I could be certain that he heard me.

He opened the door, and we mumbled some neighbor-talk at (now) 5:30 AM.

I asked him to turn the movie down, and he drunkenly said that he didn’t realize it was so late. Or a Sunday night/Monday morning. Man, this guy needs to get his life together.


It’s now 6:30 and his movie finally ended. After that conversation, with adrenaline coursing through my veins, I’m more awake than ever. I realize now that I would have gotten more sleep if I had just laid in bed and waited for the movie to end. I should have said nothing. I hate myself.

Only 30 more minutes until the alarm goes off. Yay…

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