Not sure whether it’s the growing gap of time and years between myself and the so-called Twenty-somethings that I am less and less able to understand their behavior or that they are just simply anti-everyone-else-social? Uncomfortable with sounding like my parents or every older generation commenting and lamenting about the next generation, I have to wonder about youth who bump and bang and crash their way through life so self consumed that they seemingly haven’t noticed that they occupy and share this world with others and that those others are due consideration too.
How long does it take before they understand that slamming front doors at 5 a.m. so hard that the entire building shakes when they first walk their dog, when their social schedule starts at midnight, ends at 6.30 a.m., that constantly and noisily welcoming guests between these hours, that their normal speaking voice is high decibel, that they tread so aggressively that the communal stairwell vibrates, that they believe it’s their right to their smoking addiction of constant Camel cigarettes directly below other tenants that they will eventually and irrevocably piss off their neighbors? What is it that twenty-somethings don’t understand by the sixth security patrol call-out, head hanging in resignation as the same officer lectures like a substitute parent that this unchanging and inconsiderate behavior will certainly lead to eviction just weeks after occupancy?
The realty check about “paradise” is that ‘people make paradise’ or they can ‘piss on your paradise’ and ruin it. The hard truth about these splendid apartment complex resorts with their sky-high Palm trees, turquoise swimming pools, splendid gyms, luscious landscaping is that they are corporately owned, that this is a business concerning occupancy numbers, low turn overs and increased rentals at lease end. And that the ‘good‘ tenant, but the complaining tenant, is actually seen as the bad tenant as his/her ‘behavior‘ will finally mean the eviction of one or more sets of tenants and therefore adding cost to turning yet another apartment. This was thoroughly illustrated after five written complaints, a manager who wanted ‘proof’ or other tenants to complain too and whose solution when an agent offered to move me to another apartment was to take her aside and … whisper, whisper … suddenly it was policy to insist on an upgrade therefore turning my predicament into their financial gain.
So, after only six months of sleep disturbed nights of constant comings-n-goings past bed time, of acrid, smoke-filled patio and home and the prospect of having to pay for and live in permanent air conditioning, I was back on the apartment hunt again. Viewing fabulous yet affordable resort after resort, the inevitable one-year-lease and room sizes that I could never fill nor want to fill, that I started to consider a roommate share. I had done this successfully and necessarily all my New York City years and my last eighteen months in New Jersey. Searched in conjunction with my complex visits, I finally decided that a humbler home at less than half the outgoings, in an establish, family neighborhood, in an old sixties block of paired and set back and brought forward, Hacienda styled apartments, two bed-two bath, one up, one down, surrounded by mountains with striking views, that I had found my next, petite paradise. No gym, no pool, no pretension, just peace.
Travel buddy, Dee, was the first and the appropriate person to awaken me with pre-dawn texts on my first morning after moving in and which I answered back-n-forth, sleepily peering out through my blindless and curtainless window at sunshine, blue skies, the rugged, chocolate rocks of North Mountain and tall Palms. Okay. I think this might just work. A new roommate and his kitty as company. And the adventure continues.
Last Gas $3.19 per gallon.
(iPad Kitty, “Miss Marley”)