Scuffles

When large numbers of diverse populations live in close quarters, the opportunity for disagreements heightens.  This morning, I witnessed the first one in this little village.

I have thought that the offending party might be among the first to make their way to this blog. We have been polite in our interactions thus far, but they--a couple, I'll call Rose and Barry--have a general disregard for our shared space.  They routinely hang out in the common areas of our particular unit, smoking and drinking and leaving bottles and cans in their wake. I never see Rose without a drink in hand.  I don't think I'm being too judgmental to state that they've got some issues.

This lovely Saturday morning, loud music--the sort where the bass shakes the foundations of the house and sends waves through the fish tank--started up.  Shortly thereafter, I hear both Rose and Barry sounding agitated, and I walk into the common area to see them laying into a college student standing on the balcony. She's not arguing, just absorbing their diatribe about having the right to enjoy their music.  The problem is we're not all enjoying their music.  Rose and Barry climb into their pimped out Cadillac and peel out of the parking lot.

The college student is visibly shaken, and I spend a few minutes settling her back down.  Unfortunately, though, I don't think this will be the end of this particular story.