The quarantine life is not a life I thought I was going to have to deal with. I’m pretty sure nobody had it penciled in as something they were going to have to actually deal with at any time in their lives. Obviously, life as we know it has been flipped upside down. It’s shitty to think about being introduced to the new normal partly because of the uncertainty, the fact that we have no idea when that will be. I did buy an Xbox right before Game Stop caved to Governor Wolf’s demands, so my friends and I have been able to play four seasons of Madden in three weeks. Kudos to us. On the flip side, I’ve had to deal with my dirtbag neighbors all day as opposed to only a few hours and weekends.
When my ladyfriend and I moved into our apartment last August, I knew there was a decent chance we would have a run-in with these creatures based solely on how they looked. Did I judge them because they looked like they were method acting a play based on the show Shameless? Yes. Yes, I did. And guess what? I was 1000 percent right. These are folks in their mid to late 30s, who naturally don’t work, live off government cheese though they don’t have to and whose look just screams bad decision making. They might as well be Will Ferrell from The Internship.
But early on things were civil. We’d cross paths, say hello, keep it short and everyone would smile. No issues. But then about four months ago, they began to blast their incredibly terrible club music at random times of the day and would rarely miss an evening where they weren’t trying to recreate the scene from Matrix Reloaded where Morpheus and Trinity go to barter with the Merovingian. For hours, it sounded like we were in the bathroom of a nightclub and we just kept to ourselves about it.
To go along with the cliche bad neighbor trope of loud bassy music, there were the instances of vacuuming no earlier than 10 PM and sprinting from one side of the apartment to the other as if they were trying to lower their 40 times. We approached them about the ridiculousness of everything but only got a predictable, “Sorry.” And that was that.
We continued to deal with it on the weekends because we didn’t want to make waves. As a collective unit, we didn’t want to make waves. Fortunately, our wishes were granted by way of these people getting evicted. Yep, it turns out, landlords aren’t to keen on having people squat in their apartments. Or getting calls all the time from tenants and other surrounding neighbors about shady people coming and going from the same apartment. And landlords are certainly not down with those squatters getting arrested on their property for being street pharmacists. And, not the substance the NFL doesn’t care about anymore either. That’s what happened here. In early March, my ladyfriend and I were tickled when we were told that they were getting evicted and would be out by April 1st.
Then- because why the hell not- these neighbors hit the eviction lottery and had a pandemic fall into their gross laps. Because of this, they’re able to stay here until the stay at home order is lifted. Well, they’ve been celebrating that and have been cranking up their sound system (that I’m sure they took out of a 2002 Chevy Malibu) until 11:00… often.
When we would see each other, we still kept a Cold War approach trying not to lose our cool and do something we might regret. We’re dealing with criminals who don’t have much to lose so safety is something to think about. But I’ve been forced to listen to too many EDM tracks and I finally started to pound on the ceiling, to little avail. The landlords weren’t being to much help due to the times. I was like the Road Dogg desperately trying to get to my partner Bad Ass Billy Gunn. I needed the hot tag in a hurry. So there was only one other person to turn to.
Enter Bodhi
This is Bodhi and yes he was named after the Bodhisattva. He’s a searcher looking for the ultimate ride. That typically means just a ride to the dog park, but he does care more about others than himself. He knew I needed help and help he delivered in the form of a bark so deafening it could break the glass in the library from The Breakfast Club. When Bodhi hears the bass from up above, he starts letting them have it. Then, when I think they’ve passed out, from their definitely not even close to socially acceptable substances, I inspire him to make his presence known.
Currently, we’re at a cease-fire. Maybe it will last for the whole day. I’m preparing for that unlikelihood and so is Bodhi. We’re ready for an amazing Easter.
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