It's a beautiful day in the neighborhood

My neighbor still annoys me. But strangely, over these past eight weeks or so, we've built up a pretty good system that works.

He wakes up in the morning. Starts blaring his music. I wake up because the pounding bass has made its way into my idyllic dreamland, and promptly smack the wall a couple times to express my discontent. To his credit, he turns it down. After thirty minutes, he gets courageous and starts to turn it up again. An hour passes and it's gotten so loud, that I'm forced to smack the wall again. And again he turns it down. Wash. Rinse. Repeat.

And that's how it went for a while. He'd play his music. When it got so loud that I couldn't stand it anymore, I'd hit the wall, and he'd turn down his speakers a smidgen so that I could attempt to study or write or read or sleep or whatever it was I had to do. It was a great system. Until my right hand was so bruised and swollen, I seriously thought that I had broken one of my bones (I hadn't, according to my doctors-in-the-making friends).

So then, I started playing the retaliation game. He'd play his music. When it got so loud I couldn't stand it anymore, I'd turn my speakers to the wall, and inch up the volume so that he'd eventually hear my lyrics loud and clear - and yes, I made sure to play disgustingly poppy songs that I knew he'd hate. (I had to download a bunch of S Club 7 just for the occasion.) He'd get the hint, and turn it down, and I would promptly turn down mine too.

But see, through these little music volume games, I've gotten to know my neighbor. Though a wall separates us, and I still don't know what he looks like in person, we've built up a rapport. We've talked.

See, one Thursday night, he came home at 3am and started blasting his music. By this time, I'm usually in bed. Or if I'm not, it's for a really good reason - usually because of homework and/or papers due the next morning. I was writing a paper this time around. Nevertheless, I don't like bass-heavy songs in the middle of the night - no matter what the situation. So that night, knowing how thin our walls are, I yelled out, "turn down your f*cking music."

Funny how when you're intoxicated or sleepy, you don't necessarily behave all too chivalrously.

"Shut up, b!tch!" came the slurred reply.

"Douche!" I shouted back, irritated and somewhat insulted.

"Prude!"

And then he proceeded to pass out or something, because the music abruptly stopped. And so did the shouting.

"Tool!--oh. THANK YOU!"

"Shut up."

This time I knew not to say anything.

"Good night," he finally said, and left me alone with my writer's block.

And ever since, he's been pretty good about keeping his music down. I can still hear the bass periodically but I think I've acclimated. And I can stand it, as long as it doesn't get so loud that I can actually hear the backup singers harmonizing with the lead singer. Even if that does happen, I'll hit the wall a couple times and he'll turn it down, which I always follow up with a "thank you."


That said, I hope we never meet. That would be awkward.