Venting About Chicagoans – Part 2: Apartment People

Want to hear a joke?

No? Oh well.

What’s more unnerving than hearing the loud, sexual moans of a middle aged man as you lay down to sleep one night?

Hearing his loud, sexual moans EVERY NIGHT. 

Sorry, I never promised it’d be a good joke. I’m not very good with punchlines. And I have never been clever enough for puns. Speaking of puns, I just want to say that I realize they are probably the least funny form of humor, but I believe they are the wittiest. My Dad can come up with puns like no one can. Every time he spits out one of those bad boys, I feel.. I feel.. well I feel something like this:

 

giphy

 

But that doesn’t stop me from staring at him in awe of his incredible punliness. Punliness. Let’s go ahead and add that word to Webster’s. Is it in there now? Ok. Good.

Last year, I submitted a post detailing my incredible annoyances with Chicagoans I encountered while dog walking throughout the city. You may read that hereBut only after reading this one first!! “You have to eat your carrots before you can have your ice cream, Jimmy!” –If you’re reading this and your name is Jimmy, I apologize at how creepy my post just became.

I’m going to preface this rant with another rant of what happened the first night I moved into this apartment. I’m going to preface that sentence and explain that the reason I like to preface so much is because I ramble when i tell stories. I think it’s because of my self-diagnosed ADD. With that, Onward!

So it was late one night last July. Aah, I remember it fondly. Mainly because it was warm…and this winter has been hell. I had just moved the last of my belongings from the hellhole that was my downtown apartment where I lived with Humpty Dumpty and Bozo the Clown. I was due to fly to VA at 6 am to finally pack and move everything remaining there to my new Chicago studio. I had a few hours to kill and no clean clothes, so I frolicked down the stairs, so excited to utilize the laundry room as an inhabitant of this amazing new building. Yay, I wasn’t the only one doing laundry. New Friennnnddddd, I thought as I licked my lips ready to strike at any moment. I loaded my machine, but there were no signs of how long the washing machine ran for, so I politely asked my neighbor. He told me they each took about an hour. I decided to introduce myself and explain that I had just moved to the area. He replied, “Yea, the people in this building don’t really talk to each other.” I was dumbfounded. Was it my heavy breathing in his ear as he retrieved his unmentionables that made him reject me like that? I’ll never know. Oh well. I skipped out of the laundry room and back up the two flights of stairs to my room. Preface now over.

Since that first night, I’ve had very limited interactions with people in my building. Either the laundry guy was telling the truth, or he warned everyone to stay away from me. If he’s smart, then probably the latter. I do have quite a bit of interaction with one resident, albeit it consists entirely of me screaming obscenities at my wall. There’s this indescribably infuriating man that I call “the Preacher”. I don’t know where he lives; his voice just kind of emanates through the walls in every direction and suffocates you with his nonsensical sermons. He is basically scream-mumbling at no one in particular. Every few seconds I’ll make out the word hell, or hate, or sin. Don’t get me wrong; I’m Greek Orthodox. I appreciate people who wish to practice whatever religion they choose. Just stop trying to convert me while I’m trying to take my 4-hour afternoon nap. Otherwise you’ll wake the bear. And this guy does- every time.

One night a few months ago, the power went out. I took my little flashlight and decided to venture into the hall to make sure it wasn’t just my room that was out. It was entirely possible my easy bake oven had blown a fuse again. I thought maybe other people in the hall might come out to do the same. No, just silence. These people really have no sense of community. I anxiously searched for a door to knock on. Two rooms down a couple sounded as if they were arguing. Naturally, I picked that one. It took them about 30 seconds longer than it should have to answer the door. Damn it, the laundry guy’s words travel fast. Eventually the door half opened, and a woman just stared at me. I nervously asked if they were out of electricity also. She just nodded at me, not saying anything. I retracted my head back into my shirt’s neck hole and slithered back to my room. Never again will I do that.

Then there’s the most recent addition to my list of people I can’t stand. This one is an enigma currently. About once a week, I will awake to five straight minutes of someone slamming a door literally, LITERALLYYYYY, so hard that my entire room and bed shake from the vibrations. What the hell are you doing? I will find this person one day. I will find you.

Hopefully, I haven’t jinxed myself by writing this. The last thing I want is to write a Part 2 Cont. with an entirely new list of awful experiences. Before I end my post, I really must declare that I do love my cozy, bedroom-sized apartment in my cute, teal, four-story building. I love living alone in my studio; I just could do without a few nuisances I’ve encountered here. If you’ve had any similarly frustrating experiences, feel free to tell me about them. It’s always more fun to vent with others.

 

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3 thoughts on “Venting About Chicagoans – Part 2: Apartment People”

  1. Aww my poor Phil Phil. I hope things get better with time. And that’s crazy how no one talks to each other in the building. Community should be amazing thing.. people have issues. I can’t say we had the same issue. But I could say that there were times I’ve visited friends who lived in apartments on the first floor and during the day you would hear the person upstairs jumping running and walking hard. Like are you serious? And to hear a neighbor moaning is hard. Lol I guess that’s my fear of my own apartment I don’t want the neighbors to know my name nor the person I’m with name. Unless we are cool of course. But don’t need them to learn it that way.

    1. haha apartment living definitely has its ups and downs. Especially when I live in a 13 x 12 box. It keeps things interesting though. Hope you enjoyed the post!

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