In which I become Creepy Guy.

I’m a little creeped out.

I was informed of a sweet-looking stereo sound system laying around in the trash room on my floor (of the apartment building I live in). So I went out to the trash room, admired the system, and pondered its feasibility. The trash room air was a little, well, trashy, so I stepped outside (the halls are outdoors, covered but with pretty good views to all sides) to get some fresh air while I pondered. I ended up deciding that the inconvenience of hauling around the system, which may or may not even work, would outweigh the potential benefit of taking it for several reasons I won’t go into here.

But, thought I, I don’t really feel like going back into my room. So I’ll walk around a bit.

And that I did. Well, in each corner of each floor, there’s a little cut-out area where, from the hallway you can see some very tall, very pretty bamboo-like trees. I stood and took in the air while examining and admiring these incredibly pleasant plants, revisiting old memories of my first semester of college, when some friends and I found a bunch of bamboo logs and carved them up into marijuana pipes. I thought about how I used to put on a playlist made up entirely of the Beatles and the Beastie Boys and smoke a bowl out of my homemade bamboo pipe, and how I once almost burned down a bed (maybe the house) due to a defect in my pipe’s design whereby flaming marijuana was able to leap off the side of the bowl. (We won’t go into those details, either. Suffice it to say that there wasn’t even a superficial burn on the sheets; some combination of the low flamingness of the weed that fell out, my apparently-not-too-slowed reflexes, and my ability to deeply analyze the nature of the universe saved the day.)

So as I’m admiring the plants and thinking about days gone by, a guy walks out of what seems to be an apartment door right next to me and walks right past me, muttering something about timing. I looked his way, considered saying something, and thought, “Nah. Go back to the bamboo.” (I’m probably not the only individual within fifteen miles to have had that very thought in the last 24 hours, BTW. However, I may be the only one to have had it in English.)

The guy turns around, heads back my way and says “I’m going to have to ask you to move along.” :confused: The guy looks completely unofficial but wears an aura reminiscent of mall security. “Excuse me?” I ask, curiously.

Dude: “Do you live here?”
Me: “Uh, yeah.”
Dude: “Do you think those people like the idea that you’re looking through their windows?”
Me: :confused: :confused: (looks back to the bamboo and realizes there are windows visible directly behind it, on my floor, one floor up and one floor below) “Er…sorry…I wasn’t looking at any windows, I was looking at these trees here.”
Dude: “Are you done?” It was not a question in the traditional ‘Where’s my car?’ sense.
Me: “Uh, yeah. I guess. I wasn’t trying to be creepy or anything…”
Dude: “Well, it is creepy. It creeps me out. And I’m a man.”

Er, OK. I walk back to my apartment, and notice that the guy unlocks and walks into another door on the way. Apparently he is official. I ponder these things at the same time:

“How sad that people have to watch out for residents looking through their windows.”
“He really thought I was looking through someone’s window.”
“Somebody might’ve called him into their apartment to watch me watch trees, thinking I was looking through their window.”
“Multiple people think I’m looking through someone’s window.”
“Good thing I’m moving out soon. Note to self: Admire bamboo somewhere else in the future.”

Wow. Uncool for you. Good thing you’re moving. Not that you did anything wrong, you know, it’s just fucked up that someone just assumes you’re looking into people’s windows. Naturally, everyone’s going to point at you. Then they’ll mutter. Then they’ll start throwing shit. Torches and pitchforks. Leave. Just. Leave. Now. Don’t even pack your shit. You can hear the mob outside your door, fetus, or should I say, perv? Make a rope out of your sheets and bail out the window. RUN FOR YOUR LIFE YOU SICK BASTARD!


The OP’s experience sounds like every episode of Curb Your Enthusiasm, and would have been a perfect summary had one of the apartment dwellers heaped oodles of profane insults on him.

Wouldn’t know, as I’ve never seen the show.

I’m a poet, and I don’t even know it.

Sad, isn’t it, that you don’t get to take a break and enjoy the moment or natue or whatever without people assuming you’ve lost your mind and will at any second be coming to murder them with an ax. When I was much younger and living in my first apartment, my S.O., I and some friends decided that it was a beautiful night and that we would go out and sit on the grass under the streetlight and enjoy it while we talked. People freaked. They stared at us out the windows. We slunk back inside and a shortly thereafter the cops cruised by, no doubt searching for ‘suspicious persons’.

The self appointed mall cop sounds like an asshole, and the type of people who overreact to this probably aren’t the types you’d want to surround yourself with anyway. I’ve had this happen to me before too, I was reading something on a door window and this black guy thought I was staring at him for a couple of minutes. He didn’t take it bad, he just tried to make me feel comfortable when I went inside as he tried to talk to me. It was pretty funny in retrospect.

Well, I can’t say if Mr. Cop was self-appointed or not, as I saw him come out of one door and then unlock and go into another, the second of which looked more like a door to a management office rather than an apartment–although it very well could have been a utility closet or trash room or something, but either way he had the key to it and had access to the room next to the bamboo/window display anyway. I assume he’s actually an apartment manager or something and that he had gone over to the room next to where I was to investigate a complaint that I was looking through someone’s window. I was too shocked (and paranoid) to ask for details, though. The whole thing struck me as really odd, and sad.

That sucks when people think your doing something unsavory and you’re just hanging out. The exact same thing happnened to me. Well, OK, I was licking the window and masturbating, but almost the exact same thing.

Also sounds like a recent episode of Boston Legal…a black guy was arrested for parking in front of nice homes…he was simply looking at them thinking “someday I would like to own something like those.” In the show, he got off. But in reality, a black man parked in an all-white area staring at houses…ooooo…creepy. Jail the creep.

The closest I came to being “creepy” was when I was in NYC and walked past a store that had these amazing vases in wild colors. I was staring at the vases and a woman in front of me said, “Pervert, stop staring at my tits!”
Without missing a beat, I said, “I’m Gay, and move your fat ass so I can see the vases.”

The expression on her face was truly priceless.

I used to bird watch from my livingroom window and with a binocular- until I realized it appeared as though I could be spying on a neighbor. I hope they never saw me because I really was just watching the birds at my feeder.

So there I was, just minding my own business, standing in front of the girl’s gym locker room, maturbating like a motherfuck …

I must say, I’m sorely disappointed in the link you provided. When a mouseover shows “giant_panda_eating_inset.jpg”, well, damnit, I want to see a picture of a giant insect eating a panda already!

Heh, heh, heh…I’ll bet he did!

When we were kids & poor, Mom’s favorite form of cheap entertainment was to put us kids in the car and drive around wealthier neighborhoods in the early evening, when it was getting darker outside and people still had their front curtains open with the lights on and you could see how their living rooms were decorated. I suppose these days she’d get arrested.

I’ve had similar things happen. Sorry ladies, but some of us, gay or straight, happen to be really into plants and we can’t help it if that extraordinarily healthy philodendron specimen just happens to occupy the same field of view as your tits. Excuse meeeeee, but I wasn’t even aware of you or your tits. But look at that philodendron, I wish I could get mine to look that good!