It’s 11:30 on New Year’s Eve as I write this. My loud next door neighbors are having an exceptionally loud party in their backyard. Well and good, it’s the sort of holiday that calls for celebration and a certain degree of noise.
What amazes me is how fiercely banal they are. Mild hip-hop blasts about ten feet from my desk, not quite loud enough to rattle the windows. Someone just screamed giddily for everyone to go inside to play Pictionary. (They’re not.) Another yelled that she isn’t going to drink as much soda in the New Year. They’re all in their 20s or 30s, but they’re shouting conversation like they’re 90 and lost their hearing aids. I keep expecting to hear complaints about AARP and the proposed changes to the Readers Digest. Children wander in and out, plaintive cries of “Mom!” a dissonant counterpoint to the urban elevator music.
It’s “The Rime of the Ancient Mariner”, given their volume I cannot choose but hear. The size of the packaging at Costco is the current topic and everyone is surprised by it. Go figure.
They’re having fun. I could be annoyed, that would be easy, it’s annoying. I’ve done my time at those kinds of parties. Now I’m enjoying not having to be somewhere I don’t want to be. If the dogs aren’t bothered, then neither am I, even though they’re all singing “Party like a Rock Star” off-beat.
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2 comments:
The drunkest of the guests had a screaming, sobbing confrontation with her mother via cell phone, over a litany of childhood grievances -- just outside my window. A perfect coda, which I had to add here.
Sounds like awesome New Years Eve entertainment!
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