Apartment stories: uncomfortable encounters.

Miscellaneous and Personal Stuff I Must Share
1

Uncomfortable situations can often happen as a result of people living in tiny, non-soundproof boxes. I hate, hate, hate apartments. A good friend of mine lives in one, and this isn’t good for me.

Right across from Chris, someone lives whom I’d never seen. I was… well, I was sort of making out with her birthday balloon, (for laughs,) hanging outside. She walks out that second. That was kinda my fault.

But the worst wasn’t: i ran outside to spit off the ledge, and to my surprise, barely miss hitting a certain resident in the face. I apologize, and I’m being very polite about it. She yells at me for a while.

Do any other people have such bad, and ultimately humorous luck with apartments?

2

try living in a crappy appartment building, where the fire alarm goes off repeatedly every few days.

Where the neighbour upstaires seems to have 5 children or more, still under the age of 10, running around like a stampede.

Where the ones under you play loud music, enough vibration to make your furniture move around, in the middle of the night.

How bout those next to you who want the whole building to know just how great their ‘love making’ is…repeatedly…

to answer your question, yeah. i got outa there as fast as possible.:smiley:

3

Geez, it sounds like you were living in MY apartment building, only I’m still here, some 17 1/2 years later. I moved in because I couldn’t afford anything better (I did not want to live in this neighborhood, and I did not want to live in an upstairs apt where I was gonna have to drag my synthesizers up and down the stairs any time I had a gig or jam session, but this was the only apt I could find where I could afford to live without roommates), with the intention of staying only for the one year lease. Unfortunately, I was never able to get out, for various reasons (money still being one of them), and I still don’t see any light at the end of he tunnel. ::::sigh::::: I’ll probably die here someday.:smack:

Anyway, about those neighbors who “advertised” their “great lovemaking” repeatedly – did you happen to live across the courtyard from them, and could you hear them (notably the woman) from across that same courtyard even when your own apt windows were CLOSED!!! I swear on my entire Star Trek episode collection AND on the memories of my rats, I am not exaggerating. Let me tell you a story about them…

One day, it was early evening, during the Christmas season, they were “at it” with their usual enthusiasm. I was home, by myself, windows closed and I was trying to tune them out, when suddenly it seemed to get louder. I looked out my living room window and noticed that bunches of my OTHER neighbors had their windows open, had stuck their heads out and were IMITATING them by shrieking like the woman and panting/moaning exaggeratedly like the man. I have to say this was absolutely hysterical – especially since the couple seemed completely oblivious to the public ridicule.

4

I moved into a charming older complex with four units per individual building…and the hallways were set up so that your neighbor’s door was about six feet away from your own, across the tiny entryway.

I am the nosy type, so I kept looking out my peephole whenever I heard noise to see if I could spot my new neighbors. The mailboxes were right in front of my door for easy peephole access.

Day 3: Caught an eyeful of the Ugly Naked Guy. Literally. Old man, buck naked, getting his mail.

I guess he thought that since the mailbox was within arm’s reach of his apt., he didn’t have to bother with a robe. You know, since apparently nobody was looking.

Guess that’s what I get for spying.

I forgave him months later when he rescued the houseplants I had finally kicked out of my apt. b/c they were dying. I put them on my back steps and even though it never rained and I never watered them, they flourished; it was a huge mystery until I saw Ugly Naked Guy–wearing a robe this time–watering them for me.

He even planted begonias in the pots whose plants didn’t make it.

I felt that since he had saved their lives, and contributed begonias to those pots whose inhabitants he had failed to reach in time, he deserved to keep them, so I left them for him when I moved out.

And I would like to state that I have never bought a plant since, in memory of Ugly Naked Guy. :smiley:

5

The woman living under me had one boyfriend where, when they weren’t advertising their affection, apparently he was beating the crap out of her. He must have been great in the sack, but the abuse she took was horrible. I’d either wake up to sex noise or fighting noise, and the latter was worse. Finally one night he literally picked her up and threw her through the screen door. The cops came, took her to the hospital and him to jail. She got a restraining order and the guy got out on bail. Then one summer night, when I had the window open, he came into the back yard and started screaming at her about “How could you do this to me? You got no right to get a restraining order. It was your own fault.” I called the cops, and he never showed up again.

6

I just started a pit thread on this very subject about my awful neighbors who just moved back in! I guess the most interesting story from their previous stay was when Ass Monkey (the building manager) came by with his brother-in-law Bubba to fix my bathroom sink. I found Bubba in my bedroom holding up one of my bras from the laundry pile I’d left on the bed. I calmly pointed out that I was pretty sure it wouldn’t fit him and he blushed and stammered for quite a while. I had thought that would be the last I saw of him… Oh well :frowning:

7

Yup. I always wear clothes when I exit my apt (even to get the mail or do the laundry since both the mailboxes and the laundry room are inside the building proper), but with all due respect, Audrey, I have to say I’m glad we’re not neighbors. Nosiness is one of my “pet peeves.”

The only time I look out my windows or open the door/look through the peephole to see what my neighbors are doing is when they’re making such a racket that it attracts my attention in a big way. The booming stereos, screaming brats and rhythmically creaking beds don’t do it for me anymore. Now it takes what I consider “scary stuff” to do it, namely the dangerous sounding arguments containing great amounts of profanity which sometimes occur right outside in the courtyard or in front of the building.

8

I may have told this story on this board before.

I was living in Raleigh in a second floor apartment in a not-bad neighborhood. I was lying in bed reading one night and someone drove up and started shooting into the apartment below me. The sliding glass door directly below my window completely shattered. They jumped into their car and drove off. Meanwhile, I bolted to the kitchen (an interior room) and stayed there until I heard the police arrive.

I don’t know what the guy below me was into, but I never saw him again. The people next to him had bullets come through their walls, but nobody was hurt.

9

I tell you, “old man smoker” clearing his lungs and spitting the results over his deck, right next to our bedroom (thin walls), is a pretty yucky way to be woken up almost every morning.

Also, the same apartment had a very nosy woman on the council (most people owned, while we rented) who was constantly keeping an eye on the building. It took a while for it to sink in that we actually lived there, and weren’t sneaking in on a daily basis to use the laundry facilities. One day we came home and found her with a broom, leaning over her deck railing, trying to oust two large and healthy black squirrels having sex in the big pine tree in front of the building. It almost seemed like they were doing it just to piss her off…

10

I lived in an old building on Kenmore in Chicago (just across the wall from Graceland cemetery). On the other side of the hall was a seriously mentally ill old woman hom I could hear having sex with her dog.

Luckily, Chicago is a wonderful city with too many things to do and see to be stuck in you apartment listening to your neighbor having sex with her dog.

11

Gah! I can still hear them, “Ooooh Anthoneeee!” “Wheeze!” “Ooooh Anthoneeee!” “Wheeeze!” Crack, snap, crackle, crunch, blam! They broke their bed, for crying out loud. When I finally got a look at the mystery neighbors I understood. He was a hairy fireplug ( you couldn’t tell where his head hair ended and his, alledged neck, hair started) and she could have bench pressed my truck. Thank god they moved out a few days later.

The most uncomfortable situation I’ve ever been witness to, was my friend’s. She dated her next door neighbor, who turned out to be a jerk. He cheated on her and when they broke up he moved the chippy in with him. So every day for months she had to cross paths with both of them. To make matters worse their bedrooms were right next to each other so she had to hear everything.

As for strange/pathetic, there was the guy diagonally downstairs from us who had his teenaged son living in the damned storage closet. He wanted his own room, but I don’t think that was the solution. Landlord agreed.

12

Er, umm, unless you could see inside this woman’s window, or she was doing it in a public part of the apt building, how in heck could you know she was having sex with her dog?:dubious:

13

One summer, I lived in a total trash heap behind a barbershop and overlooking a little park. How… nice. Except that it was in downtown Whitetrashvill U.S.A. and the drunk couples staggering home from the bar seemed to think the park benches were a great place to stop and have screaming-at-the-tops-of-their-lungs fights. One night, this was going on about 1AM, as I’m tossing, turning, swearing because I have to be up at 5 for work, I hear “You bitch, if I had a knife I’d kill you!”

“F*** you!!”

ad nauseum for several minutes as they worked their way around the back of my building and into a narrow alleyway. I heard some screams, some trash cans being knocked over, then dead silence. That’s when I called the police.

Then there was drunk-at-6pm Guy.

“Jiiiiiiiiiimmmmmm!!!”

(downstairs neighbor) “Jim’s not home!”

"“Jiiiiiiiiiimmmmmm!!!”

(neighbor) “Jim’s not home, STFU!”

"“Jiiiiiiiiiimmmmmm!!!”

“STFU!”

Hey, what can you expect for $300 a month!?

14

fizgig writes,

<Hey, what can you expect for $300 a month!?>

$300/month? Sounds great to me! Hell, I’m paying just over $600/month and I hear exchanges like that and all kinds of other crap too during unreasonable hours.

15

I love Iowa. My house payment ( I will own the house one day ) is …Man I almost feel guilty saying it…$354.25 a month.
Four bedrooms-- and 2 acres of quiet.

16

I’ve had a few bad roomates in my time, s’why I live alone now. But the absolute worst was one we affectionately refer to as ‘Creepy guy’. Creepy guy’s two least endearing habbits- 1) Would not answer the phone -unless- he thought no one else was around. Then, if it wasn’t for him, he’d hang up immediately. I had friends who got mad at him for it, but the final straw was when he’d hang up on my mom when she’d ask to talk to me.
2) He had odd sleep habbits. I usually sleep like a rock, but one night, I wake up at about 3-4 AM… And he’s sitting there in the corner of the room… staring at me. What made it creepier is that he wouldn’t stop, even when it was obvious I was awake. (shiver).
Damn I’m glad I’m outa there.

17

Wow, that must be one hell of a test tube! :stuck_out_tongue:

Well, Roseburg, Oregon has to have at least one redeeming quality; apparently it’s the rental rates on dumpy studios behind barber shops.

This time I purposely rented a place built in the '70’s. Nice and solid; I never hear my neighbors.

18

Ok, get a load of these anecdotes:

Senior year in college, this random guy is placed into our 4 bedroom apartment named Rob (name NOT changed to protect his ass). Rob embodied every single white trash steroetype that exists. That being said, here are some highlights of our cohabitaiton period:

-Rob liked to use 1-800-COLLECT when he needed to make a phone call. Not just long distance, but every time he used the phone. Repeated attempts to explain the concept of local vs long distance calling went over his head. He continued ot pay his triple digit portion of the phone bill though.

-Rob’s diet consisted of things he could get for less than a dollar, even meat (or Near-Meat as we liked to call it). He even found this Nestle Quick knockoff called “Captain Choco.” One time he got some discounted chicken that was past its expiration date, left it exposed in the fridge for 2 weeks and then ate it. One time he splurged for some seasoned chicken breasts, but then he removed the skin which had the seasning on it and fried it up.

-Rob had a pet rat. It started out in a normal, pet shop sized cage, but soon it evolved into something much more. After he spent a few weeks building it a bigger cage, complete with multilevel mazes, he decided it would be better to have the rat roam free in his room. Yes, he even put down rodent bedding on his floor. Whenever I walked by I had to hold my breath, and the few times he opened his door the smell hit me like a punch in the face.

-Rob’s girlfriend was only 17 (he was 24) and she cut her hair so short she looked like a pre-pubecent boy. Her mom would constantly bang on our door, asking where her whore of a daughter was. I had to resist the urge to say, “Gee I don’t know, but your son is down the hall and to the right.”

-Rob had an old Chevy Caprice that he would tinker with from time to time. I had no problem with it until certain engine parts started showing up in our living room. Me and the other 2 roomates did all we could just to get him to at least put down some newspaper. One day I came home and found him passed out with a spray paint canister in his hand. After I revived him I spent a good 20 mins lecturing him on proper ventilation techniques when using aerosal cans indoors.

Thats about all I care to recount tonight. Im going to go double check my current lease to make sure the landlord can’t do this to me again.

19

Don’t worry, I won’t kill you. If I haven’t killed my BF for having a house in NH on an acre and a half with a mortgage payment a hundred bucks less than your monthly house payment, you’re safe. LOL.

As to the quiet, oh yes…and as I write this, I’m still listening to the jackhammer that woke me up this morning (they’re doing something to the concrete “porch” in front of the building). Gotta say though, I’d rather listen to the jackhammer than to my neighbors, their blasting rap “music” and their noisy brats. However, there’s not only quiet, but privacy too when I go up to see my BF. We can make mad passionate love anywhere in his house without making sure curtains are closed and even outside if we wanted to – no one but trees to see us (heh heh, we’re waiting for nice enough weather to try this one: so far every time I’ve gone up there to be with him, it’s been snowy and cold or rainy and cold). And we can have screaming tickle fights too, without having to worry about bothering or scaring neighbors. He has no idea how I can stand living where I do and when he’s here to see me, he’s constantly chiding me. I have to agree with him because I hate it here too, but as I said in a prior post, I have no independent way out of here.

20

Hey, leave the poor rat out of this, OK, please? I love rats and had many of them as pets myself. They are the cutest, sweetest critters and I love them. In fact, I love rats more than I even like most people, and of all possible pets, the only ones I’d want would be rats now. The only reason why I don’t have them anymore is because of allergies (I persisted for a long time even with the allergies before I finally had to give up and not get any more when Pestis, my last rat, died two years ago today :(). I miss them immensely, but have to now settle for collecting toy rats (I’ve got lots of them) and wearing T-shirts with rats on them (I have a few of these also).

I think the idea of building the multilevel cage is way cool (though I didn’t do it for my rats – I’m spatially and mechanically inept), but the only time my rats got free “out of cage” play time was when I was around to supervise them, and then they only got to play either on the tops of their aquariums (which I’d open so they could climb out), or sometimes when I’d lay out “The Rat Towel” on the coffee table so they could run around on there too while I ate or watched TV. I used to sometimes share my meals with them: the coffee table is also my dinner table. I thought it was fun to have three or four rats with me while I ate, and it was so cute when they’d grab a piece of macaroni or whatever right off my plate, or when they’d take the baby carrot from my hand that I’d hand-offer them from my salad.

As to your former roomie Rob letting his rat loose in his room, I think that was worse for the poor rat than it was for you or your other roomies. Rats gnaw things and get into places where they can be unintentially harmed. This is why my rats only got free playtime in limited areas and when I was able to watch them.