I Live in the Ghetto

You can tell that the semester is going to be a really interesting one when all three of your neighbors, across, above and diagonally above from your unit are all African Americans. Not that I have anything against them or anything, but some issue in the form of cultural differences is bound to come up. I’ve had the privilege of meeting with two of my neighbors, unfortunately due to some unfortunate circumstances.

Scene 1:
I’m hanging out in my room, when the doorbell rings. It’s the FedEx guy and he asks me to sign for the guy diagonally above from my unit. He wants me to hold on to my neighbor’s package since he isn’t around. The FedEx guy left a note on my neighbor’s door telling him to come get the package from me.
Later that day, I came back from dinner to find a note slipped under my door. In barely legible handwriting, there’s a message accusing me of taking a package that doesn’t belong to me. The one who wrote the note demanded that I call his cellphone and return the package promptly.
So I call this guy up and tell him to pick up his package from my room. He comes down and with some really street attitude, just takes the package from me and leaves. Not a word of thanks, not a sign of appreciation. Fantastic.

Scene 2:
I learn how thin my ceiling is. After a really long day of classes, I retire to my bedroom for a short nap, and boy did I get a short one. Just 5 minutes into my journey to dreamland, I was rudely awakened by rhythmic thumping coming from upstairs. It’s Boy’s To Men & Mariah Carey’s One Sweet Day in full blast. This is the umpteenth time this joker has disrupted my beauty sleep so I decide to finally go up and talk to him. I ring the doorbell and tell him about the problem and he’s like, “Aiight man.”
I head back to my room and wait. 1 minute, 2 minutes pass and no difference. The low frequency bass continues to vibrate through my ceiling. Too lazy to go up again, I turn on a little Nora Jones to sing me to sleep. Nora Jones doesn’t help much with the cause (no offence to her).
I give up taking a nap and decide to take a shower and check my email. 20 minutes later, I’m wide awake and our dear neighbor has decided to stop playing his music. Finally when I can get some peace and quiet, my hair is wet and I’m as bright as a light. SWEET IRONY!!!!!

I’m not attributing their race to whatever happened. Correlation does not mean causality. It’s mere coincidence, but really, I would appreciate having a neighbor that cooks nice Chinese dishes or someone that I can yum cha with a whole lot better.