So my girlfriend took a break from NorCal’s ‘burbs and her two kids this weekend to hang out with me in San Diego. We went out and hit the town and she kept saying, “I love that you live downtown! This is so cool!”
But in the morning, when I asked her if she slept okay, she replied, “Well. Umm. Either your roommate or a bum was up puking half the night. Then there was some kind of fight going on and what sounded like a freight train driving through your living room and what’s with the phone ringing incessantly next door?” Okay, I get it- staying at our urban estate does come with its downsides…I’ve just learned to sleep through most of them.
When I first moved down here, the biggest adjustment was realizing how well I was about to get to know my neighbors. I knew people who lived in the city and I was aware that privacy was measured differently than if you lived in a house in Suburbia. To point, two of my guy pals lived in a high rise that faced the Hard Rock Hotel and we could look out their window and see scandalous things happening at all hours. Then there were my friends Amy and Lauren who also lived in the Gaslamp District and they had views into another bourgeois hotel whose patrons often forgot to close their blinds, never realizing that while we were enjoying a glass of wine, we could also see them enjoying each other whilst swinging from chandeliers naked and pouring champagne all over themselves in slow motion, soft-core porn style. Their patio was prime people watching territory…a true gem. No, seriously. They are so fancy, even their neighborhood dogs ride in Porsches. (I couldn’t make this up if I tried…)
Our patio view is a bit unfortunate in comparison. If Amy and Lauren’s patio was a gem, ours was a diamond in the rough- minus the diamond. As you may have remembered me mentioning in my CHRONICLES OF A CHRISTMAS DIARY post, our neighborhood has yet to see gentrification kick in. Although there is the brand new library opening next door to us that has cost the nice people of San Diego $185 million dollars to build, it may just end up being the world’s most expensive homeless shelter. Other than that, there are a lot of new buildings mixed in with run down apartments and halfway houses and overall yuckiness to be viewed into the building behind ours. Let’s just say if the beautiful people of the Hard Rock are spraying champagne all over themselves during their wild trysts, the people wit in our view are using PBR.
The things we hear and see out of our windows are both disturbing and often unexplainable, like, the constant ringing of a very loud landline that blares in the middle of the night. First, they must have a megaphone attached to the ringer, because it can be heard clearly through double paned windows. The same amplifier must be hooked up to the answering machine because belligerent 3am messages can also be heard against our will. We have determined that this neighbor either runs a 24 hour pizza delivery service out of his home, or is a drug runner.
I’m not even sure if I should address the pile of mattresses in the alleyway next to this building but I’ll just put it out there and we can all try not to use our imaginations.
One time, an extremely large topless woman was standing on top of the roof of the building next to ours and was hovering over the edge. My roommate Hannah and our friend Kara spotted her and called the police, letting them know there was a jumper. The cops were in our place talking to her from our patio while some other cops went up to the roof trying to talk her back. It was a whole debacle and I guess they finally reeled her in. One of our neighbors threw over one of her old T-shirts for the lady to squish into so she wouldn’t have to be taken down in her undressed state. I missed that whole thing because I wasn’t home. And when I say I ”missed it,” I mean….there IS a God. If you want to read more about that particular incident, there is a fantastic account on my pal Miss Funemployment’s blog.
Anyway, the good news is, the bums in my neighborhood are getting more health conscious as we learned when we offered our leftovers on Thanksgiving to a vagrant woman who turned down our food by responding with disgust, “I’M A VEGAN!!”
The very worst though is when the folks in our neighborhood start feeling frisky. For all the good-looking sex we’ve seen through the windows of the fancy hotels, I can tell you that there is nothing and I mean NOTHING good about the sex we’ve seen and heard out our windows here in the ‘hood. One time, it was so frightening we almost called the cops because we thought someone was torturing a hyena across the way. There is only one word for what goes on in the building across the street, and it’s EEEWWW.
You know how when the good looking guy at the office hits on you, it’s flattering but when the weirdo, comic book fanatic, socially awkward IT creep at work hits on you, it’s sexual harassment? It’s not fair, I know…it’s just life. Well, it’s kinda like that with my neighbors. My friends in their fancy high-rises are getting hit on by the hottie in the corner office and I’m being asked out by the serial killer hacker who works in the basement.
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