I didn’t sleep last night. My sisters were visiting and I doubt they did either. I love city living, but sometimes it takes it’s toll.
“Dirty cat, dirty cat,” some chick sang at the top of her voice. CRASH! BANG!!! And a few minutes later it happened again. And again. And again. What was going on?
Half asleep I ignored it, but as it got louder and louder, and the voice sounded more frantic and the bangs got more violent, I ventured down the stairs to check it out through a set of squinty eyes. On my way I noticed what looked like McDonald’s buns thrown across the entrance. Weird.
As it turned out it wasn’t my neighbour who was screaming, it was a very frustrated British chick who was very very drunk, and very annoyed at the dude living a few stories below me.
“I don’t have my keys,” she said, scrambling through her bag. She was a mess. “My head is bleeding and he won’t let me in. I fell over. And then he grabbed me by my head and dragged me.”
“Ummm….” I was stunned. Do I invite her into my place? I really didn’t want to and my sisters were still trying to sleep. Should I call the cops? Her hair was wet, but it was also raining outside. It didn’t look like blood. And besides being drunk he girl looked fine. “Where are your keys?” I asked.
“Inside there,” she replied, pointing at my neighbour’s door. “Well I think they are. I left my makeup bag in there. I think. And it has my pay cheque in it. But the asshole won’t let me in to get it.”
“Ummm…” I really didn’t know what to say. “Are you sure it’s in there?”
“Yes.” Pause. “Actually no. But I need to look and see.”
“Do you know you have kept the whole building up for the last few hours?” I asked, I’m not sure what good I thought that would do. I knocked on the door. “Excuse me…” I said meekly. No answer. I shrugged at the girl. About to give up, the dude came out of his apartment. He looked normal and relaxed.
“Look you just gotta go home.” he told the girl. “I’m sorry, I’m really sorry.” he said to me, “she’s really very drunk.”
“Are her keys inside your place?” I asked, giving her the benefit of the doubt.
“No.” he said, turning to her, “If you had anything in there, I’d have given them to you already.” He shook his head. “Go home. You’re going to get me evicted.” Turning to me he appologised once again, and then vacated the premises. She called after him and I escaped back to my bed. Surely she would go home now. But no.
“Dirty cat, dirty cat,” the loud obnoxious singing started again.
All this commotion on a Tuesday night! My sisters will be turned off city living forever!!!
A while later there were a few more shouts and bangs, and then nothing.
What happened? I don’t know. Hopefully she’s not lying in a ditch somewhere. I guess she went home. I hope…
What’s even more discomforting about this situation is that I seemed to be the only one in the building to go see what the commotion was about. And it probably took a good hour or so of noise before I made a move.
How much screaming does it take for us to step out of our warm beds to see what is going on?
Living in apartment blocks we live so close to complete strangers and you have to wonder whether anyone would notice if someone was in serious trouble… that’s really not a nice thought.
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