Saturday, January 12, 2008

The Many Joys of Apartment Living....

Our downstairs neighbors are party-ers. I mean really, really loud party-ers... and I don't care... except....

There have been several times in the last few months where they have done this same shit. It's about 2:15am... Friday or Saturday night - right after last call... and the guy (who - to my knowledge... is the only one who lives in the apartment downstairs) and his girlfriend get into loud, drunken arguments while she's getting ready to leave in her car. The car just always happens to be parked...conveniently downstairs RIGHT below my bedroom window.

So, Friday night/Saturday morning.... right on cue, I was woken up by their drunken antics.

They were yelling, and being generally loud drunken, inconsiderate assholes... and then he went back into his apartment, and was slamming the door, and yelling.... and carrying on. There was, as always, a loud group of people in his apartment.... and I could hear their carrying on... through my floor!

So, I got up, peed, and called the cops.

I talked to the dispatch woman, and explained the situation to her. Since my car accident a couple of years ago, I have had the non-emergency number to the PD programmed into my cell. So, I gave her the address, and she told me she would send an officer over to check it out.

Okay. Back to bed, settle in, getting comfy again... and then, 15 minutes later my cell rings. WTF? It's like 2:30-something by this time. I answer it, and it's the dispatch woman. She says they don't have a record of our apartment building's address in their system. WTF???! I repeat that the apartment building's address in 11-blank-blank Noneyabizness Street. And she says are you sure it's not 10-blank-blank Noneyabizness Street? I say, No, I know where I live, even in the middle of the night. We are at the corner of Noneyabizness and Randomnumber Street and it's the ONLY apartment building on that corner.

By this time, Jeff hears me talking, and comes to investigate. He asks who I'm talking to, and I tell him, with dispatch still on the line, that I was trying to call the cops on our asshole downstairs neighbors. And, that apparently, it's easier to get pizza delivered than an officer dispatched.

Finally, they get their shit together... and they sent a cop out, but all he did was drive by, and they didn't even bother to get out of his car. The drunken a-holes had moved their ruckus inside... and I guess it was too much trouble for the officer to leave his nice warm car, and investigate further.

I decided, though... I am calling the cops every time they do this from here on out. No one fucks with the pregnant lady's sleep and gets away with it.
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