My Building* #1: Oh how I wish my door had a peep hole

I started writing this post on Friday, shortly after the events depicted in the story, but then the weekend happened and I didn't finish. So I've just finished it now, Monday, July 7th, even though it's probably still dated for Friday.

So I've been inspired this morning to start a new feature that chronicles the going's on in and around my apartment building. Not because what happens in my building is particularly exciting (until today), but because I live in the LOUDEST APARTMENT IN EXISTENCE!

The walls of my apartment are actually quite thick. I can't hear what's happening in either apartment next to me. And with the exception of a particularly heavy footfall or the moving of furniture I can't really hear the one above me either. The key is that the floor has some holes in it, so I can hear anything that goes on really loudly in the apartment below me (this mainly consists of a band practicing at all hours, and a person who quite pleasantly plays the violin in the middle of the day; thankfully I can't hear people speaking, unless it's through a microphone). Also, my windows and door seem to be made of tissue paper. I can clearly hear everything happening in the alley behind my apartment and everything happening in the hallway outside my door. Today's story is courtesy of the door.

A little before 6:15 this morning Gwen and I were rudely awakened by the sound of a woman screaming her fucking lungs out variations on "You fucking piece of shit", "Get the fuck out of my apartment", and "Oh my god I'm going to kill you." Somehow I immediately knew it was the girl who lives two doors up from me on the right side of the hall, #2. She's only lived in the building for a couple of months and, until today, the only impression I had of her was: Loud.

So within about a minute of her starting to scream, I heard a door slam and quickly ascertained that it was her door. Then she was not only screaming, but also banging on her own door from the outside. (At this point I was thinking that she'd had a fight with her boyfriend and then locked herself out of her apartment while attempting to throw him out and he wasn't letting her back in.) This went on for a few minutes before she ran outside of the building, where I could hear her through two glass doors, screaming things like "I'm going to hunt you down and kill you" and "If I can't then my dad will kill you". Then she continued screaming "You fucking piece of shit" while she banged on one of the glass doors of the foyer (that you should need a key to get into), for a couple of seconds before she realized that she could get in the door (which never closes correctly so anyone can pretty much walk in off the street without a key) and was thus back in the hallway screaming. I got out of bed around this point.

Then I heard her door open again and some guy starts speaking in a relatively quite voice, saying "Shh" and "Calm down". And it sounded like he was calling her Caroline. She continued to yell about the "fucking piece of shit" and said something that sounded like "Who's Bea?" (which made me think maybe he'd said someone else's name during sex, or that he'd gotten a call or text from someone she didn't know), to which he inexplicable replied and repeated "I was with your friends". After another couple of minutes where I stopped hearing the guy, the front door opened and a new guy asked "Are you okay?". She sounded like she was crying when she replied "Oh my god. He was in my bed. He was in my fucking bed." (About this point I was concerned and started to feel guilty that I hadn't called the cops immediately.) I heard the new guy talking to another guy but it was too quiet for me to hear. Then I didn't hear any more talking.

So I thought that while the immediate coast was clear I'd have a look outside. I opened the door and could see no one, but I could see a police car out in front of the building, so I closed the door again and just continued to stand next to it listening. After a few minutes I heard the police start talking to the girl. Turns out her name is Tara. She was kind of hysterical while they were trying to get a story out of her. She basically said that she'd just laid down a few minutes beforehand and then she woke up and this guy was in her bed. She didn't give any indication of whether or not she knew the guy (which was sufficiently creeping me out at that point). She seemed to indicate to the police the state her apartment door had been in when she got up, which, from what I could gather, was not entirely shut and locked. And then the police convinced her to go back into her apartment, which she was reluctant to do, and asked the friend of her choosing (apparently there were many outside the building by then) to come in and sit with her.

I didn't hear much more from Tara herself after that, except the occassional muffled repetition of "Oh my god." I did hear either one of the policemen or one of the paramedics who had shown up say "What do you think? Psychotic break?". (By here it was around 7 and I'd resigned myself to being awake for the day and started to make some tea.) Then I heard a guy who sounded like he was standing directly in front of my door start talking to someone on the phone, who he later informed someone else was Tara's mom. He told her that he and Tara and their friends had been out last night, and had met this guy who sublets an apartment in this building. At some point this subletting guy had gotten pissed off at Tara and started yelling at her and making racist comments. Then Tara's friends took her back to her apartment and that seemed to be the end of their night (per this guy, talking to Tara's mom, so undoubtedly huge sections of information were being edited out). But it was this subletting guy who'd apparently ended up in her apartment.

That was about all I heard from the hallway after that. Around 9:15 I decided to go do some laundry. When I went downstairs I could see the apartment door of the band that lives below me was open and two police officers were in there talking to someone. On my way back upstairs after realizing that all of the washing machines were busted and I wouldn't be doing any laundry, the officers were escorting a guy dragging a suitcase out of the band's apartment and out of the building. And this was the last I heard or saw of anything related to the incident.

*On second thought, maybe I should be naming this new feature "Boring Stories Told in Excruciating Detail".