Monday, June 15, 2009


I haven’t really met any of my neighbors. I’ve chatted with Scott – the middle-aged guy who lives across the hall – but that’s it.

Except for this other dude, Richard, who I ran into that Friday I took off of work because of Bridezilla’s wedding. He lives in an apartment facing the parking lot. Perfect for knowing when I am, and am not, here. He chatted me up for way too long. He’s divorced. The father of twin daughters. Retired from Ford. Bored.

I’ve successfully avoided him for a week and a half. Until tonight, when I was leaving for the gym.

And he starts shouting at me from his balcony. Asking me if I’m on a baseball team, because he always sees me in a track suit. (For the record, I do not own a track suit. Nor have I ever played baseball.) I told him that I was just going to the gym. So then he’s got to go on and on about how he used to own a threadmill.

And then he asks me for my number. So we can talk like friends.

“When I get back from the gym,” I lie.

I get home from the gym and successfully sneak into my building. Which is, unfortunately, also his building.

A half-hour later, he’s knocking on my door. Not loudly, so I figure that I’m okay not to answer and pretend that I just didn't hear him.

Five minutes after that, he’s hitting the buzzer to my apartment. Incessantly. It is loud. And the sound itself? It is scary. And he is scary. And I am scared.


Kari said...

I saw that on your way out (or way in if it is really late), you tape his buffer on so it buzzes all night!!
Hope the creep leaves you alone!


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