You will see from the picture above that I, once again, am living next door to a vacant apartment. This last group was here for a torturous six months. I can't say that I was particularly sad to see them go. I do realize that my fears of the exploding crystal meth lab that becomes an all-night roller disco may be realized with the next set of tenants, but I'm very happy that Mr. Echo and the Woo Girls are no longer around.
I know I haven't shared all of the details of their brief time in the building. Perhaps you'd be interested to know why I nicknamed one of the girls Sasquatch? She managed to stomp around the apartment so loudly that everyone knew where she was at every moment. You'd know when she was headed for the door or when she was walking through the short corridor to the master bedroom or when she was in the kitchen on the rare occasions when they cooked. The funny thing is that their apartment is carpeted, unlike mine, which has hardwood floors. How do you make that much noise walking around on a carpeted floor?
And they didn't even own a vacuum cleaner until about two months ago. I happened to ride up in the elevator with one of them when she brought it home. They then proceeded to vacuum for the next two hours. Each time they got the urge to clean, you could count on two hours of that sucking sound. How filthy must that carpet have been to have gone four months without being vacuumed?
After about a month or so, I got tired of knocking on the door to ask them to turn down their music. They loved anything with that annoying Auto-Tuner sound. I just decided to call the security patrol each time. That way, there would at least be a record of their disturbances. Some weeks, I had to call four or five times. They never seemed to learn that other people lived in the building and didn't want to hear their music. And it wasn't just me. I know security stopped by a couple of times when I hadn't yet called, so other people were annoyed with the neighbors and their music. (And it wasn't only music. You should have heard the ruckus the night a friend brought a videogame player. Oy.)
We also kept getting notices about their smoking on the balcony. They did try to help, I suppose, by putting a two-liter Sprite bottle out there so they could douse their cigarettes when they finished smoking. I guess they should be applauded for the ingenuity and generosity, but I'm not feeling particularly charitable toward them these days.
I never did figure out how many people lived there. They were late in paying the rent last month, perhaps one reason they moved out so quickly. Only two names--both female--were listed on the letter, which was taped to the door of the apartment so that everyone could see. (Hey, the apartment management company doesn't fool around with delinquent tenants.) However, I know at least three guys lived there at various times. Mr. Echo was a frequent presence, and so was this guy with short hair who tended to call people up late at night to ask if they wanted to go clubbing. Yes, I could always hear their conversations through the wall. They were just that loud. I'll never forget one of his last conversations when he kept yelling into the phone about how untalented so many people in this town are. (Pot? It's Kettle calling for you. Thanks.)
Speaking of loud, you'd perhaps be happy to know that Mr. Echo had an active sex life. He "plays on my team," as the saying goes, and he and his current boyfriend/partner/trick would sometimes wake me up at 3 a.m. with their "love sounds." I mean, I have to admire anyone with the stamina to have sex at 3 a.m these days, but some of us have work to go to. I need my beauty sleep, as much of it as I can get.
I also managed to discover, somewhat accidentally, what two of them did to make a living. Mr. Echo and I got on the elevator at the same time one day, and he was carrying one of those fruit arrangements--you know, the kind made to look like a bouquet of flowers (not really, but go with me here). Turns out that was his job, making fruit into party centerpieces. Sasquatch is apparently an actress. Obviously, not a very talented one, since she didn't manage to find an acting job during the six months that she lived in Los Angeles. I don't know what she plans to do next, but judging from the conversation she had with a stringy-haired new boy on the Saturday of the move, she's going to be in Long Beach. God help all of you who live there if she becomes your neighbor. No, I don't know if Mr. Echo is moving with her. Oddly enough, I didn't ask.
The move actually started two weeks ago. A couple of friends stopped by to help Sasquatch pack up her clothes. Well, "pack" is a bit generous for what they did. It was more like stuffing clothes into shopping bags. No suitcases, no wardrobes, no boxes, just old Nordstrom and Abercrombie bags. They took clothes out of the apartment for a couple of hours, and then the place sat quiet for a couple of days. I actually thought they had already moved out Mr. Echo and Telephone Man came back in the middle of the week.
This past weekend, Mama Sasquatch showed up, as he had when Sasquatch had moved in last fall. (And, yes, now I know where Sasquatch gets her charming personality. These people would have to work on improving themselves just to become white trash.) I managed to see Mama walking out with a couple of lamps, with Sasquatch following behind her with a microwave in tow. Piece by piece, they moved stuff out, rugs, cushions from the floor, a box of dishes (yes, one box). It didn't take that long since, as I mentioned before, they had so little in the apartment. I was right, by the way, about the lack of bedroom furniture. I was here when the Great Mattress Removal began. Only mattresses left that apartment, no beds. How can anyone stand to sleep on a mattress on the floor? I know they're young, but that's just asking too much. And there was no couch either, just the aforementioned cushions.
It wasn't official, of course, until the magic white keyhole (although it's actually more yellow than white) appeared this past Monday. I did another little dance in the hallway when I realized that they were gone for good. I know it probably won't be long until another set of tenants moves in. I just hope the new folks are more respectful and quiet. It would be nice if they were also people who had jobs, so then they'd go to bed before 3 or 4 in the morning. Of course, with my luck, they'll probably be elephant trainers who bring their charges home with them in order to make the pachyderms more comfortable.
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