Saturday Night in the Complex

AH!! The joys of apartment living. It is four-thirty am and the cops have been called and now everybody is wide awake and a bit pissy about being up this early. Earlier in the evening there was the usual comings and goings, extra traffic, loud talk and slammed doors that reflect Saturday night in the complex. We have 12 families in this building and there are 27 building so there are a lot of people close together. As expected there is a difference in living in a complex and a private dwelling. One difference is the number of times the cops get called. One night there was the third floor group who insisted on playing their boom-boom music at top volume. That would not have been too bad but they opened the patio door so ALL the rest of us could savor the sound too. Somebody call the cops. He told them to shut it down and waited in his car to see if she did. Nope! Back up the stairs he went and that time he had a real attitude. Quiet!!! Then there was the teen who sat in his truck which features straight pipes and listen to HIS boom-boom music. Again not a problem except his truck sounded like a skidder pulling a log out of the woods. He would start it and stop it; all at four am. Again someone called the cops. Then tonight we had the saga of the prom queen. She had on a prom dress and the boy a tux. They walked around and around the area while she cried and made a high pitched whiny sound that only dolphin 20 miles out in the Gulf could hear and evidently all the dogs in the complex heard her too cause they all barked. She told the boy she wanted to leave and would hit his keys and his truck horn would beep; he said no and hit it again which brought a second beep. So it was sort of EEEEEEK! BOO! HOO! BEEP! BEEP! for about two hours outside the bedroom window, until the cops came to this one too. It was a big female cop and she was not happy! Again quiet! The strangest thing of all is that I DIDN'T call the cops. Someone else did it. I have spent a lot of years in apartments and have about seen it all. Thirty years ago when I lived at Brittany Apartments every Saturday night was party time. Cops knew the residents by name. Brittany was an upscale apartment then but come Saturday night and we had fist fights, screaming break-ups (straight and gay), skinny dipping in the pool, squealing tires, broken beer bottles and loud, loud Led Zeppelin. If the cops came there was a reason. All in all I think the new apartment dwellers have lost the ability to really party down. Back then we lived up to the phase, "It ain't a party till the cops break it up!"