Across the street from me is a house apparently populated by college kids (I’ve never seen anyone over the age of 17 enter or exit) with no driver’s lisences. Every day (and night), at all hours, cars pull up in the middle of the street (and right under my bedroom window) and HONK their horns till someone finally comes out for their ride. Different cars, different riders, but always that house. Pisses the hell out of everyone within a three-block radius.
I’ve already tried:
• Leaving polite notes in their mailbox asking them to please meet their rides outside or ask their rides to get out of the car and ring the doorbell.
• One time I was walking to the train when it happened and I knocked on the car window and asked the middle-aged driver to please not blast her horn at 7:00 a.m. in a residential neighborhood. She said, “oh, I’m sorry!” and rolled up her window.
• Leaning out of my window and shrieking like Bette Davis in Hush . . . Hush, Sweet Charlotte: “Git off mah propitty—DAY-UM YEW!”
As tempting as arson and shoulder-mounted missiles are, my only other real option is to call the local police—does anyone think I should even bother? Can I file a general complaint against the whole house? I can’t call at 2:00 a.m. and say, “There’s another car honking its horn,” because by the time the cops showed up (if they even bothered), that particular offender would be gone.
Any suggestions—that would not escalate into a fullscale Hatfields & McCoys feud?
Assuming that it’s a rental with a bunch of college kids, any chance you could get in touch with their landlord? This is the kind of thing that they’re supposed to be not happy about. Calling the cops is also a reasonable thing.
It’ll even go with a little black dress and pumps.
But you’ll have to accessorize in brushed gunmetal. I hope that’s not a problem. After all, a lady is prepared for whatever the night (or, in this case, early morning) sees fit to send in her direction.
That does look hugely tempting, and I do have a pair of gunmetal-gray Charles Jourdan suede pumps . . . But we’d really be getting into Hatfield & McCoy territory of we brought in even faux firearms, I fear.
As far as their landlord, I wouldn’t begin to know how to contact him or her.
I feel your pain, Eve. When I was in law school I lived in student housing, an apartment complex mostly filled up with young undergrads. About twice a week, on weeknights, at around 2:30-3:00 am right after the clubs closed, I would be jolted awake by dozens of cars driving around in a circle and blaring their horns through the complex while all the guys did the “who let the dogs out” barking noise and the girls did this high pitched “ooooooOOOUUUTooooooOOOOOUUUT” thing, everyone apparently drunk as hell or otherwise temporarily insane. It was the most maddening, inconsiderate crap imaginable.
“Honking your horn - how nice to see that you’re carrying on the old traditions. Why my grandfather used to honk his horn for grandmother when they were a’-courtin’. I’m glad you’re not using one of them new-fangled cell phones, which seem to be so popular with the hip crowd.”
Next time somebody honks, you could go down and get in the car and ask for a ride somewhere.
“Well, you honked your horn, and everybody on the block heard it; it only seems reasonable that you’re here to give people rides. I’d like to go to the library.”
I think you and I may have been separated at birth.
Anyway Eve, since the Snipotron 9000 isn’t what you want, may I recommend that you try the incredible edible egg? You can soft boil them first so they won’t make quite as big a mess, and it should get the point across.
