Friday, July 26, 2013

asshole neighbor

I live in Apartment 301. This evening, I met my across-the-hall neighbor, from 302, as I was getting ready to slap new stickers on my car's license plates. Ms. 302, a woman in her late 50s or early 60s, is wearing a neck brace because she recently had C-spine surgery. We got to chatting about her neck brace and about the fact that I'm moving; conversation then shifted to the neighbors who live directly below me, in 201, and that's when I learned something.

"Those people are so noisy!" said Ms. 302. "And the ladies below them [in 101] have called the office to complain. So you know what [the 201 lady] said? She said you were the one making all that noise!"

I was rather taken aback to learn that I'd been a pawn in someone else's mind game, but I merely raised my eyebrows and smiled upon hearing this bit of news.

Since I'm leaving soon, though, there seems little point in confronting Ms. 201 with her lies. I think I may just leave her a special gift on the day I move out.

Ssshhhhh. It's a surprise.



Todd T said...

Hey Kevin. I live on the 15th floor of an apartment in Jeju City. Teenage kid upstairs drinking alcohol (presumably) threw up *out the window* this week in the middle of the night and messed up our window and screen. I diplomatically went up there said there's no way he's not going to clean up the screen and left if with the family, but who knows what they'll do. They seems to think it wasn't their problem. Welcome to apartment life.

Kevin Kim said...

Higher ground gives the advantage.

I sympathize with your situation. Back when I used to live in a first-floor apartment (1998-2002), I was bombarded with fragments of action figures and other annoying pieces of junk that were dropped onto my patio by some sixth-floor neighbors. Fuckheads. I complained to the rental office and was told that those people were moving out in a few weeks, so I just needed to sit tight. Thanks, Office, for showing such backbone!

Charles said...

You can't lie your way out of this one, Kevin. I know from first-hand experience the sort of "parties" (perhaps "orgies" would be a better term) that you throw in that apartment of yours. I'm pretty sure I witnessed the highest concentration of hookers and blow outside of a police station when I was there. And I have no idea when you found the time to build that roller coaster that runs through the living room.

Good times, man. Good times.