Before move in with the fiancé, I lived in a historic apartment building in Heritage Hill, Grand Rapids’ registered historical landmark. Mostly I loved it – heat included, lots of windows, high ceilings, hardwood floors… Of course, some things were terrible, but that goes with old buildings. There was that time my radiator leaked and caused the ceiling below to cave in. And the time the water main broke and we had no water for a few days. And that other time the boiler and the power went out for 3 or 4 days.
But the best part of all was my unseen neighbor with a Michael Jackson fetish.
You see, I’m pretty relaxed when it comes to noise. I used to live in Manhattan, and then I lived in a college neighborhood in Pittsburgh. I can handle noise. But this neighbor was different. I’d be minding my own business, fighting for space on the couch with my giant cat orwatxhing a dumb movie on Netflix, maybe even getting ready for bed, when suddenly it would begin.
Beat it by Michael Jackson.
Admittedly, wedding have great sound proofing, but this was louder than I’d ever heard someone play Beat It. Eventually I realized the music wasn’t even coming from my building, but from the apartments next door, meaning the music was going through two thick brick buildings and two sets of windows.
You’re probably thinking I’m being melodramatic. It was just one song, right? Not even one of the worst Jackson songs. Now, I like Beat It (and Eat It for that matter) as much as the next girl, but this neighbor played it on repeat. For hours. I kid you not! It was the weirdest thing ever.
A few weeks ago Jeff and I went out with his coworkers, one of whom used to be my neighbor. We were chatting and I thought to mention Beat It man, especially since we used to joke that it was Carson who was playing the music. Turns out it was his downstairs neighbor who moved out a couple months after me. Pretty lame ending, but I like to think that somewhere in Grand Rapids someone else is being driven slowly crazy by their neighbor blasting Brat It on repeat for hours. Because seriously, who does that?