Not long ago, I read a news article about a German couple who had (before going on vacation) rigged up a speaker on the outside of their house that was directed toward their neighbors' home and was connected to an audio system with a timer that would play in twenty minute intervals, the sound of a rooster crowing between the hours of 3:00 and 4:00 AM. No details were given as to why, but it seems reasonable to to conclude that the respective neighbors were having a feud of sorts, or else the pranksters most likely were, and still are, deranged. It reminded me of a series of unpleasant events that happened some years ago in an apartment building in which I lived. About a month after I had moved into an apartment, several college students moved into the one just below mine. Evidently, they were music students attending a nearby music college, judging from the parking decals on their vehicles. At any rate, pretty much right off the bat, they became the proverbial "neighbors from hell" when very early one morning, I was awakened by music and other noises coming from their apartment. I figured it was an isolated incident so I put some plugs in my ears and went back to sleep. However the next morning at about the same time it happened again. This time, I stomped on the floor and they turned their guitar amps down and whatever else was the source of the noise, and I went back to bed. I assumed that all they needed was a some sort of a hint, though one would think that anyone would have enough sense to realize that people were in bed and sleeping at that hour. But as you no doubt guessed, the little butt heads did the same damn thing again the following day. Presumably, they were going to bars and clubs and staying until closing, and then returning to their apartments where they would continue to party, play their musical instruments, and engage in orgies. After several days of this, it became quite evident that no amount of floor stomping was going to stop them from making people's lives miserable. So I decided to go to plan B. Those punks obviously had no idea that they were living below an individual who was going to feed them a dose of their own bitter medicine and make their lives a living hell, because in the room just above their bedroom was the room in which I kept a state of the art stereo system with 100 watt "A" rated speakers that were as big as Konishiki.
Normally, out of consideration for others, I would use headphones when listening to my stereo, especially if I were listening to, for example, The Who, which was absolutely mandatory to play at the highest volume possible without shattering glass or blowing out one's eardrums. I had even placed the speakers on noise suppression pallets to eliminate as much of the vibration as possible. Those numbskulls had gone too far and they were about to have a most unpleasant experience. I removed the suppressors, not without some amount of difficulty as the speakers were very heavy for one person to move. Then I tilted the speakers toward the floor and propped them up at about 45 degree angles. Since I had to get up relatively early every morning, as did the other tenants with normal working hours (Don't ask how I know that. I just do), I would start off the day with a huge rousing wall of sound. Trying to decide what to play wasn't easy, however, as I have what I consider to be an excellent selection of everything from classic to classical. As I thumbed through my record collection, I envisioned those brats spooning and snoring and possibly dreaming sweet dreams, and I laughed rather sardonically when I came to Beethoven's 5th Symphony. I removed the album from the cover and cued the needle to the intro, and turned the burnished steel volume knob...DA DA DA DAAAAA...I knew those numbskulls were having rude awakenings (as it were) and maybe even experiencing cardiac arrest as well. If only! They had it coming, though, and I was glad for it. Holy Canoli! The walls were shaking and books were literally falling off the shelves.
However, just like clockwork, the following morning the stupid bastards were at it again although I know damn good and well I jolted their asses mightily the day before. Okay, I said to myself when I got out of bed at daybreak and went into the stereo room, "What shall I play today ?" Again, I leafed through the record collection and with a gleeful grin I plucked the Jimi Hendrix Experience album from its record sleeve and placed it on the turntable and cued the needle to "Voodoo Chile". "Dig this!", I intoned somewhat loudly. Though there is absolutely no doubt that I had rattled their skulls, they would not relent as was evidenced very early the next morning, per usual.
This had turned into an all out war. So the next day I played Deep Purple's cover of "Hush", a hard rock version of the original. It seemed those nitwits were as impervious as cockroaches that survive nuclear blasts. Still I continued to wake their sorry asses up every morning just like a drill sergeant. Instead of reveille, however, I played everything that I had in my record collection that was sure to wake the dead, and yet the little beasts would not give in.
Then one evening I stopped by Maria's for her usual Sunday soiree which I always looked forward to since I could eat the best Italian food that side of New York. Her nephew, Frankie was there as usual and as usual he and his aunt were arguing. Italians have a propensity for doing that somewhat regularly. they'll argue till they're red in the face and then one of them will leave the room and five minutes later he or she will come back into the room and both will act as if nothing had happened. I guess it's an Italian form of therapy. In any event, I said, "Hey Frank, I've got a little problem with some punks that live below me." He said, " Yeah, like what?" I told him what was what and he said, "You've got two choices." I said , "Yeah? What are they?" And he said that we could have a little talk with the mooks (which, in Italian, is code for a beating) or I could play some Italian opera on my awesome stereo system. I said I would try the opera first. So I played some Rossini and then some Verdi every morning, loudly of course, and within less than a week the orgies abated and then, Blink! just like that...the inconsiderate punks were gone.
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