Superbowl Buzzkill

Quote of the Day: “I don't think much new ever happens. Most of us spend our days the same way people spent their days in the year 1000: walking around smiling, trying to earn enough to eat, while neurotically doing these little self-proofs in our head about how much better we are than these other slobs, while simultaneously, in another part of our brain, secretly feeling woefully inadequate to these smarter, more beautiful people.”
-George Saunders

When my landlord, a soft-spoken, gentle man, came by to pick up the rent a couple of days ago, he informed me that my neighbor had complained about my television being too loud.

I don't blame my neighbor. I got a new TV for Christmas, along with a surround sound system, and I've probably gotten a bit carried away. Plus, the TV and subwoofer are against the wall that we share with this man.

Not wanting to be rude neighbors, I apologized to my landlord and Kim wrote a long apology letter and taped it to our neighbor's door. She explained in the letter that if there are any further problems, the neighbor should immediately let us know and the problem will be remedied.

Then, we moved the TV to the opposite wall and completely reversed the surround sound system that had taken me an entire day to install, just to avoid any future nuisances for our neighbor. Besides, as the apology letter stated, if he had any further issues he had the friendly invitation to let us know.

Tonight, we invited a few friends over to watch the big game. The parking lot has reserved spaces at our apartment, and though we instruct our friends to park in the street, somebody parked in our neighbor's spot. What impeccable timing.

Instead of recognizing a simple mistake, my neighbor parked his 4-Runner directly behind our guest's Miata. I went next door to apologize, yet again, and to ask him to please allow our friend to move his car.

Keep in mind that, by this point, I've never spoken to our next door neighbor. He went directly to the landlord, not to me, to complain rather than to simply ask us to keep it down. Ever since Christmas, I'd never known there was a problem so the volume went up and up. Am I that difficult to approach?

So, tonight, he answered his front door and without even opening the cast-iron door he barked out of the shadows, "What do you want?"

"I'm really sorry, we had a misunderstanding, can my friend move his car?"

He still refused to even open the door. "I'm not leaving for another hour," he said. "And I called the landlord and a tow-truck." He said that his car would not budge until the tow truck arrived. Ouch.

After some pathetic pleading (thank God I'd been drinking), I got him to move his car. "Thank you," I said. "My name's Simon, by the way."

He shook my hand. "Steve," he said. "Oh, and I've also told the landlord that you're music is too loud." Then Steve, a little guy, victoriously strutted home. His screen door smashed shut, and I was left feeling that this was not over.

It's not. I think that, in the middle of the night, I might begin a steady tapping on the very wall that I share with Steve, that wonderful ball of sunshine next door, just to drive him completely insane. I've considered jumping the back wall and going into his backyard to tap on his sliding glass door. I will drive him absolutely nuts. I will make him miserable. He may not hear my TV or my music anymore, but he will hear these strange tapping sounds in the still of the night that may or may not be his neighbor's doing. All of this because he had to go directly to the landlord rather than growing some balls and asking me to please keep it down. It's on, Steve.