More Than They Bargained For

I wrote recently about guilt over being mean to my new next door neighbors after I fussed at them and threatened to call the police if they didn’t tone it down.  We are in the city and we only have the width of my driveway and a foot or two on each side between our houses; our houses are old and I can hear every sound they make, especially when they are partying.

After our first run in, things seemed to improve.  They still had gatherings, but kept it down in the evenings.  However, Larry did have to go over one afternoon and ask them to turn down their music while I was at work.  I found it pretty funny.  They had all of their windows open on a cold day; I am pretty sure they were airing the place out for a visitor.

Honestly, I don’t care if they play their music loud during the day.  I had a rock band next door for a while.  Really, I am okay with it at night, within reason.  What kills me is the yelling outside.

Friday night, the kids and I were out until close to bedtime.  When we got home, I noticed that they neighbors had some people over, but they were inside and it was all quiet on the home front.  The kids went to bed, and I followed shortly thereafter as I really wasn’t feeling well.  Larry came home after I went to bed and planted his rear in front of the television until he became tired.

I heard a few voices outside wishing someone a happy birthday before I finally fell asleep.  It wasn’t terrible, so I let it go, plus it was pretty early-maybe around 9:30ish.

A few hours later, I woke up to racket outside.  Larry had apparently heard it as well and looking out the window.  He had been checking things out for a few minutes before I woke up.  He informed me that the neighbors had been using our drive as their go between and he had counted at least thirty-five party goers coming through.

As usual, there was hooting and hollering from the drunken boys and provocatively clothed, loud mouthed, intoxicated girls.  I was ready to head over to threaten calling the cops again when I noticed that the boys were using my privacy fence as their own personal urinal and throwing cigarette butts into the flowers that bordered the fence.  Then, Larry spotted on peeing out the window facing my house.  It was that moment when I decided that I was not going to go over and make idle threats; these kids were out of control.

I phoned the city’s non-emergency number and they said they would send someone out.  Then, we waited.  I started to worry that I had over reacted for a moment or two, thing got quiet.  It would only last a minute or two and then it would erupt again.  Even during the quiet times, the party was going strong.  The boys never close their blinds, so I was able to watch the entire pill popping and bong hitting extravaganza that was taking place.

Eventually, a cop appeared.  He parked a couple of doors down and I guess he followed the noise because he went through the driveway to the back where the boys congregated.  He stopped some boys that were leaving and asked them how old they were and who was driving and told them to get lost.  He then started talking to the guys in the back and telling them all to go their separate ways either on their own or with a designated driver.

News spread of a cop in the back fast.  One of the boys that live in the house consented to the cop coming in and taking a look around.  As he entered the back, the party goers exited the front.  It was a sight to see.  Girls were throwing on shoes, sweatshirts, etc.  The scantily clad ones ran car to car looking for a ride, and probably for warmth-they had on less clothes on a cold February night than I wear in a swimsuit.

Things started to die down and I headed to bed thinking the event was over when the voices started rising in the back again.  It took a minute to register, but it was the cop yelling at the boys that remained.  He was telling one in particular to calm down.  The next thing I knew, the cop was heading to his car, with a boy in handcuffs.

The cop went to put the boy in the car but stopped suddenly and had him sit on the curb.  He put on gloves and poured water onto the boy’s head.  A few minutes later, an ambulance arrived.  Then two more police cars.

The remaining party goers should have stayed put.  They were extremely intoxicated and came out into the front yard.  One of the boys that remained started walking towards the cop and his friend and was told to stay back.  He headed back in the direction that he came from, but apparently was too drunk to tell he went to the right house and planted himself on my porch.  He swayed back and forth just sitting still and tried to call for a cab.  Moments later, his friends saw he was at the wrong house and persuaded him to go back to the duplex.

Eventually, the cop took the boy away and the drunken few that remained went inside.  There they remained until some point the next day; I had an engagement and had to be gone the next morning before they woke up.  Despite the fact that I asked to remain anonymous and didn’t turn on any lights throughout the ordeal, I was a little worried that there might be some retaliation since I had threatened to call the police previously.  Thankfully, my car and house was intact.

There was no party on Saturday.  I didn’t see anyone coming or going as I worked in the yard Sunday.  I still hate being that neighbor, but I cannot imagine that my saying anything would have made a difference.  Luckily, I don’t see or hear much out of them during the week; maybe I will get lucky and be able to avoid them until they forget about the birthday party that was more than they bargained for.


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