Tales from the Frat House

Who knew Byron and I lived in one? We sure as hell didn't. Until some dear, young tool informed us this morning.

It was 5:15 am, and I was getting dressed while Byron slept. The buzzer for the front door went off. I scurried into the hall, scared, and Byron bolted out of bed. I answered to hear the distinctive slur of a drunkard saying something along the lines of "Darren, dude" and then mumble. I told him he had the wrong place and hung up. It rattled me, since I was due to leave the house in about 15 minutes.

The buzzer went off again, and the same guy said he lost his keys. I said to go away and hung up again. Just as I was about to ask Byron to drive me to work, we heard knocking on the door next to us. We scampered to the hall, peered out our peep-hole and saw this drunk young guy knocking non-stop on the door.

Byron has very little tolerance for things like this, or inconveniences in our apartment building. He has no problem going to our landlord to tell him what's wrong. I can't bring myself to do it. I have lived in some serious shit holes over the years, and when there is a problem, be it a drunk neighbour or a dripping faucet, I try to fix it myself. So just as I was about to shoo the drunk kid away, Byron got on the phone to our landlord. He got the answer phone so he left a message.

We looked out our peep-hole again and saw the drunk guy laid out in front of our neigbour's door, knocking every now and then. Since he was passed out, I felt better about leaving. When we opened our door, we started to laugh. He was a mess! So we took a photo. And as I left, he never stirred. His white belt failed his jeans, and his turquoise underpant-clad bum hung out.

Byron said a few minutes later, he heard the buzzer next door ring, and saw the guy had left the floor. He figures he's passed out on the couch in front hallway.

We've had a tough time with the neighbours in that apartment. The people there before were gothy pot-heads. The hall always reeked of weed, and the constant thump of techno beat through the walls. They left a few weeks back, and I had never been so happy. Our landlord assured us the next tenent was a nice young guy who was going to college for welding. We heard "young" and "college" and knew immediately this would be trouble. Sure enough, the music was loud, and he and his buddies would be partying hard on a Monday night on the patio. Byron heard the landlord's wife reaming out what he assumes to be the kid's mom about the parties and the noise. I am sure once the landlord hears about this, it's a new neighbour for us.

I hope I never hear a drunk slur "duuuude" to me again at 5:15 am.

Fraternizingly Yours,
xoxoSallyt