Parking rules n' regs

In my apartment's parking lot, everyone who has a car has their assigned spot. And guests aren't really supposed to park in the lot. (We have more parking spots than cars, so people's vehicles tend to be scattered in a non-uniform manner, leaving us with a few extra spaces near the back fence.) But when they park in someone's spot, and that person comes home, the accepted protocol is to honk your horn as loud and as long as possible. Even if it's the middle of the night.

So it's not a surprise that I drew a crowd with my loud honking after my annoying commute home after a long day of work. People hung out on porches and stared. Eventually some nice ladies from one of the neighboring buildings started ringing doorbells of the building that the offender was most likely visiting - nice to know that neighbors still help each other out.

Turns out that the offending visitor belonged to the asshole downstairs. Who was on his porch sans shirt while his fat belly hanging over his shorts, watching me honk and honk and honk and honk.

(Yes, I realize what I said yesterday. But I'm getting to the point where I don't know how much longer I can live around them anymore (and from what I understand, I'm not the only one who feels this way).)

Not exactly Mr. Rogers' neighborhood...

Won't you be my neighbor?
by Fred M. Rogers

It's a beautiful day in this neighborhood,
A beautiful day for a neighbor.
Would you be mine?
Could you be mine?...


These two postings got me thinking a little deeper about the neighborhood that I live in within the larger context of the city of Boston.

I found a decently priced place to live here and my neighbors are all colors and ethnicities and ages and income levels. You'll find a pretty diverse lot waiting for the Orange Line or walking down Centre Street or waiting on line for ice cream at JP Licks. I have the typical 'neighborly' friendships with some of my neighbors - We help each other clean off snowy cars, take in packages for each other, etc. - despite the fact that we don't always speak the same language (English, PSanish, Portugese, Creole...).

I'm not saying that there aren't problems, issues, and/or misunderstandings sometimes. That's life. As neighbors, we have to be able to live around each other, not be best friends.

Playtime

A little while ago some kids from the apartment complex were outside hitting each other with plastic strips that broke off from a chain link fence. I guess it's better than them being outside on a school night selling or using drugs.

Reflections on violence II

Every time a siren can be heard I see my neighbors outside looking around more, instead of ignoring them like we usually* do. There are more parents outside with kids, gripping their hands as the sirens blare. Their body language indicates that they're wondering if something violent has occurred even closer to home.


*We live in proximity of a police station, so sirens aren't terribly unusual.

The neighborhood superstar

Should I be pissed that one of my teenage neighbors and his friends think they're rap stars or DJ's or something and like to let everyone in the apartment complex know by hanging out on a porch playing music so loud that I heard it over my vacuum cleaner? Or should I just be happy that he's not out dealing drugs, underage drinking, or something like that?

I fear that I'm beginning to sound like a crotchety old person at age 28, but when I come home from a long day at work I don't wish to hear someone rehearse for their American Idol audition. (Especially when I'm probably being way kinder about their lack of talents than Simon Cowell would be.)

Not so neighborly

I think one of the neighbors is watching porn and it's REALLY LOUD. That's the only thing that could explain the moaning with bad music in the background.

Since when is the allure of pornography the way it sounds?


And while I'm venting, someone needs to tell the kids in this building that the hallways and staircases are not a playground. And being indoors means using your indoor voices. (Writing that last sentence made me feel way older than I actually am.)