05 June 2008

Ain't Nobody Humpin' Around

I live on the Lower East Side in what was formerly (or some might argue, currently) a tenement building. The apartments are small, the walls thin, the doors thinner, and the hallways echoey. I've been lucky, on the top floor, to have no one above me, a relatively quiet dude next to me (except for a couple of late night loud music moments which I assumed were to cover up the sexers), and a very quiet and way too large for the size of the apartment Chinese family below me. A couple of times I've heard the sound of "relations" emanating from the apartment of a girl on my floor. Nothing terribly scandalous, but pretty obvious panting.

There's a guy that lives on the first floor, though, that might drive me to murder if my apartment was anywhere near his. One night quite a while back, as I was leaving to go out for the night around 11 or 12, he was playing crazy loud music, and I mean crazy loud. It would be hard to imagine your ears not being damaged if you were inside of the apartment listening at that level. When I came home around 4 am, a couple of police officers followed me into the building. "Uh, hi guys...". They were there about a noise complaint. As far as I know it hasn't been quite so offensively loud since then, though there's definitely some partying going on in there still.

A few nights ago I was coming home around 11, and I could almost hear it from the street level. It was porn level noises; I had to stop and listen for a moment. I thought man, someone's having some FUN in there. The girl on my floor wasn't similarly engaged that night when I passed her apartment.

Today when I got home from work, I saw a nice looking man on his cell phone rushing to my front door as I was unlocking it, beckoning me to hold the door; I sort of recognized him so I didn't blow him off as I did Tank Top Tom from apartment 1 just last summer. He finished his phone conversation while I checked my mail. He asked to see my tattoo and I showed him. We chatted walking up the stairs: about how long we've been in the building, about the many large families in the tiny apartments, about which apartment each of us occupied. It was him. He of the loud music/porn sex noise. As soon as he told me his apartment number, eye contact was out of the question. We shook hands, exchanged names; I was so distracted I've already forgotten his. I will just have to call him Loud Sex Guy (for now)

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