Northeastern Exodus Antics

In honor of the thousands of Northeastern students taking leave for the summer, a very small tribute to adolescent hijinks...

Boys (I'm assuming) who live in my building routinely drop apples and pears down the center of our winding staircase. That's five floors worth of velocity and gravity and all of that stuff I never really committed to memory contributing to apple and pear sauce/puree/fruit salad on the floor of our lobby. I love boys. They're so... simian?

The acoustics of the street outside my building, combined with the weird architecture of the concrete building across from us, make every word uttered on the street audible to the inhabitants of my building. This is especially obnoxious at night, since herds of students stumble around together, screaming at the top of their lungs in celebration of their collective inebriation. Overheard the other night: "Yeah?!?! Well, what if I just stabbed you until you died? I hate you, motherf*cker!!! And you know what--I f*cked your mom, I f*cked your cousin, and I f*cked your gimp sister!!!" Excellent. Thanks for sharing.

The people in the apartment(s) above ours are not the quietest. The ones above Karissa's room seem to be playing basketball of sorts at all hours of the day and night. The ones above mine play ridiculously loud, bass-heavy dance music at all hours of the night. Both of our upstairs neighbors often have loud, headboard-banging sex. Good for them. The last few nights, the music was especially loud, and coincided with my arranging a tune for big band for a final project. Karissa, surprised at the noise I deal with regularly, went upstairs to investigate. Upon ascending the fruit-strewn stairs (sometimes they don't fall straight down), she discovered that our doormat which had been left (along with lots of other rubbish and dirt) by the previous occupants of our apartment, and ganked at some point in the fall, now resided in front of the door of the noisy people above my room. She returned, mentioned the purloined doormat, and we called the cops two nights in a row. It worked the second night. The night before last, as we were returning upstairs in the elevator from emptying our trash, we decided that we would re-gank our doormat. We went up to the fourth floor, Karissa snatched it, and we decided that, rather than putting it back in front of our door, we'd see if we could incite a rivalry between the loud, dancing nymphos upstairs and the chill, perma-stoned boys on the first floor. So we rode the elevator down to the lobby, made sure the coast was clear, and slid the doormat in front of the herb-friendly door. We returned home, quite proud of ourselves, and feeling much like we used to in undergrad. The next morning, I left for ensemble, and was amused to see that the mat was relocated to the front stoop of the building outside. I love the chill stoner boys. Now our little mat can help keep our fruit-smeared, pot smoke-filled lobby cleaner. Lovely.