Not much bothers me. I am able to sleep through any commotion and this ability is handy here at the Waldorf Hotel. Almost nightly outside my window there is a crowd coming and going from the bar, restaurant, and cabaret. People stepping out for quick cigarettes with their friends and talking in loud drunken voices. I hear bits of conversation. There’s always one particularly inebriated guy whose voice cuts through the ambient vocal drone. This is “the guy” who needs to be heard. “The guy” who has something important to say. Something that is wittier and funnier than anyone else. His identity changes nightly but he is almost always there. The other night as I was falling to sleep I heard him say,
“There were paper towels everywhere!”
He repeated this several times laughing maniacally.
“Paper towels everywhere! I couldn’t fuckin’ believe it!”
He has a woman counterpart whose shrill cracking voice is usually saying something like, “I can’t believe who that bitch thinks she is!” I’m paraphrasing but that sentiment is common. “That bitch” is a popular topic of conversation.
These neighbors who share my window are a migratory group coming home to roost by 11:00 pm. and staying until a little after 2:00 am. They are always gone in the morning so I don’t think I’ll ever get much of chance to know my neighbors. We pass each other occasionally but generally we keep different hours and my quiet existence on the second floor remains unknown.
Sometimes my neighbors park their scooter in the living room
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