Damn whippersnappers
I’m as big a music fan as the next person. And I certainly enjoy some hip hop. What I don’t enjoy is people having a party outside at 12:30am with rap blasting. You know your music is too loud if I can hear it inside my house 0.4 miles away with my air conditioner and dehumidifier running, with music playing to fall asleep (The Cardigans — the only CD I’ve fallen asleep to for eight years), and the tinnitus in my right ear.
So what is one to do in such a case? Get dressed, walk to the party, and tell them to turn the music down, of course! This may seem like a pretty lame thing to do, but I take great pleasure in it for some reason. I had to do it once two years ago with the same people. There is just something very amusing about going to a bunch of 18-20 year olds and saying, “Excuse me, do you know who is in charge of the music. Because I live in a house beyond those trees and I can hear your music as I try to sleep, so you need to turn it down.” Then when the slightly intoxicated Ithaca College student says “I don’t know,” I say, “Well, it needs to be turned down or I am calling the police.”
At that point, the people trying to find someone to turn down the music start calling me “sir,” which is hilarious, as I am only a few years older than them. In their voice is the, “oh no, he can’t call the cops because if he does I’ll get in trouble for underage drinking and my parents would kill me.” So inevitably the music gets turned down and I walk away laughing, disappearing into the darkness as I hear voices murmur about “some random guy from up the street.”
You know, I look forward to the days of being an old man talking about how I had to go uphill both ways in the snow to get to school back in aught four.