If it weren’t for the fact that at seventeen I felt about the same as I feel now toward whatever resident of our block is responsible for the blaring music that I am forced to listen to, I would feel old. I’ve never seen the need to have a celebration that bombards the neighborhood. It’s bad enough that every square inch of parking is gone and my driveway is partially blocked – luckily I’m not going anywhere.
I enjoy a party as much as the next but I have always felt it to be beyond rude to have a party that is so loud that every person within a mile radius is forced to endure it. I am an early to bed, early to rise person. I know that this can’t go on much beyond midnight but that is well after my usual bedtime. I wonder what about my neighbors who have two children who I’m sure are supposed to be asleep by now. Have them managed to sleep through this cacophony? What about the neighbor across the street who is going through chemo? What about everyone else on the block?
When I lived in the hills the sounds of parties would rise up through the canyon below and assault us. I thought it was a fair price to pay for the amazing view I had. I have no view to offset the annoyance of having to hear whatever average band they managed to hire whose less than melodic performance is being amplified into my bedroom.
I prefer to sleep with my windows open. Especially on a warm night like tonight but often even in the winter. I resent that in order to get any rest I may be forced to shut myself up. I fear this bad music will penetrate the glass.
I can’t even watch TV because of the volume of the music. What happened to parties where people talked? I guarantee there is no discussion going on at the party down the street – unless it is individuals screaming into each others ears, “Can we go yet?” Yes, please go. all of you. The birthday song has been sung, there must have been cake. Isn’t that the cue to start wrapping it up?
Oh well, I’ll put in my ear plugs and hope that no one else will be celebrating any time soon.