You sit up,
unsure of what woke you in the still
darkness. Then you hear it: It's the
neighbours. Kind of
drunk, loud as
always, returning from the
pub, or a
club, or a
party, or a
Satanist orgy, or whatever they get up to on a quiet
Tuesday night.
They stumble in at 2 in the morning, squeaking the front gate, giggling as they run into walls and rebound into each other.
A five-minute conversation about the need to put a new light globe in the front porch light as they try to fit the key into the lock. They start in hushed whispers but rise to a crescendo as they discuss whether a 75 or 100 watt bulb would be better.
After an inordinate amount of time (how long does it take to unlock a door?), co-ordination, the key and lock all co-incide and they enter their house/ flat/ dorm amid laughter and the dropping of a shoe. The door is slammed. Of course.
Then the music starts. You roll over and pull the pillow over your head, knowing it's not going to block a decibel of their new Limp Bizkit/ old Elton John/ crappy AC/DC CDs they need to play really loudly right now. Amid the sounds of the music and late night tv infomercials their conversation rises and falls with excitement as alcohol and drugs are passed around. You curse the builders of your flimsy neighbourhood, as you know the walls should be soundproof but seem to built of thinly disguised rice paper.
A half hour, an hour, what seems to be a week passes... blah blah blah... laughing and jumping sounds continue (do I sound like that when I dance? you wonder blearily)... then... the shower starts.
The old pipes aren't able to cope with the amount of water the neighbours are trying to force through the the ancient shower head, and clank and thump in protest of their early morning use. Regardless, the neighbours stay in for a long time- (how long should I shower for? Am I a dirty person because I don't shower for that long? you think, delirium setting in). You want the noise to shut up, to just to go in and tell your neighbours that some people have to sleep/ work/ watch tv early in the morning, but you know you'll sound like a cranky old man if you do, so it's better to sit back and stew in your own juices and turn over every thirty seconds in a vague attempt to get back to sleep.
The shower has stopped! Maybe they'll pass out silently now! You can sleep!
Then the sex starts!
Oh, and it's not just ordinary bed-head banging against the wall sex. At this stage, you'd be begging for that kind of sex. No, the neighbours have frantic porn-style sex, loud and moaning, screaming. Now you're awake, embarrassed and mildly curious. How will you be able to maintain your friendly greetings in the hallway? "Hey, I hear you can have multiple orgasms... and that you can give them"- mmm, nice one.
It's over. It's quiet. You should be relieved but you're too exhausted and pissed off. You've only got a few hours to go until the alarm rings and you have to get out of bed. Damn neighbours with a social life; who do they think they are, anyway?
The next night you and your partner come home from dinner and the pub late; you're a bit drunk and slide down the wall next to the door as your partner drops everything out of their wallet in search for the key. You're laughing, and
you know you should be quiet but it's too hard when everything is just so funny .
You go inside, you sing, you dance, you watch crappy tv, and then go to bed, still giggling and crashing into the walls until you're safely in bed.
You can only hope you'll get sex, and that it will be half as good as the neighbours sounded.