Bad Boys, Bad Boys

Since moving into my new apartment, I have enjoyed complete and blissful silence. No noise. Which varies greatly from all my other apartments. Including:

* The dorms where the football players were constantly blasting music or busting through walls with their fists.
* The apartment where C, P, and I lived below a family of bowling balls. Well, actually it was a three-year-old and 4 30-pound cats that constantly jumped down from things. But it sounded like bowling balls being thrown all over the place. Except when the kid was bouncing a golf ball on the tile floor during "Friends." Every frikkin' day at 5 PM. Drove me out of my mind.
* The apartment P and I lived in where the stairs to the second level were attached to the wall next to my bed. Whenever someone from upstairs came home, my entire bedroom would shake.
* The house where the people who occupied the downstairs had very loud and violent-sounding sex every morning at 5 AM. That's right. 5 AM.
* My last apartment which included nightly car alarms and the ability to hear quite clearly any conversation taking place in the parking lot from the comfort of my bed.

Thus, I appreciate a nice quiet apartment. I more than appreciate it. I revel in it. And last night, my revelry was interrupted. I came home from work early and slept on the couch for a good 4 hours (woo for catching up on sleep.) But starting at about 7 PM, there were periodic insanely loud noises. Not unlike the thrown bowling ball sounds of my past dwelling. Except now I live on the top floor. So no one's above me making the noise. I had no idea what was going on. And the sounds were probably happening once an hour. I could deal.

Then at about 9 my friend D came over to hang out for a little while. And the noise is getting louder and less sporadic. And all of a sudden, someone's yelling. Someone's yelling a stream of obscenities and trying to bang a door down. The guy is screaming "You let me in you b----!" Which was enough for me. I called the cops. I'd seen all of someone's possessions outside of one of the doors downstairs last week, so I figured that this may have been the big redneck guy from downstairs that must have been kicked out by his girlfriend. D said that he'd smelled alcohol on his way up, so it didn't seem like a very safe situation. After about 30 more minutes of banging and screaming and what sounded like someone being chased through the apartment, the police arrived. I don't know what happened. I didn't want to stick my head out and the guy realize that I was the one that called the cops. I leave my apartment in the middle of the night quite frequently and wouldn't want retribution from a 250 pound dude in a wifebeater. But whatever happened, there wasn't a peep the rest of the night. Which is just the way I like it.

Stupid drama.