If you scroll down a few posts you'll find a Grumpy column in which I asked the universe to bless me with a few nice neighbours to play with in our nice new home. Well, I didn't get Cameron Diaz or Angelina Jolie or even Stewie from Family Guy.
The buzzer rang one day last week. It's one of those video jobs for extra security. On the little television screen was a man who appeared to be eating something from a paper bag.
"Hello?" I said.
"Hello."
"Yes?"
"Hi. I live in 501 on the same floor as you and I've locked myself out. Would you mind buzzing me in?"
I don't think I had seen him before but he seemed genuine, slight sheepish tone in his voice, so I buzzed him in and went back to whatever it was I was doing. After a couple of minutes I wondered how much help that had been to him because you need your swip key to get up in the elevator. Poor bastard was still stuck downstairs in the lobby.
I went to let him up but heard rustling paper in the hallway. I took a look and sure enough he had somehow made it up to the 5th floor and was sitting outside 501 munching on a piece of chicken. He wasn't wearing any shoes. I asked if he wanted to wait inside our place until someone came home and he was very appreciative. He went to shake my hand but it was covered in chicken juice. He washed his hands, accepted the offer of a beer and explained that he had just wandered out for a piece of chicken and forgotten to take his keys, and his partner ("a punk nurse") wouldn't be home for another hour.
Three beers and two hours later - with an ammended note taped to his door explaining where he was - there was a knock at the door and his punk nurse partner came in and seemed a bit bemused by this way of getting to know the neighbours. Something about the way she reacted to him being here without his shoes made me think it's the sort of thing he might do rather often. She also pointed out that he had left his phone inside as well.
So far from Hollywood sex bombs, the universe has given me a stoner as my first neighbour. A very appreciative one who couldn't stop saying that he thought The Dreaded One and I were lovely people.
At least after the third beer was opened he gave up on his plan to climb around the balcony and make his way to his apartment.
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4 comments:
Your generosity amazes me, always.
I'd be thinking he's a robber with a gun in that paper-bag. Yet I talk to strangers everywhere...?
I suppose I shouldn't have let him in but he just looked exactly how he turned out to be. And as The Dreaded One and I agreed, we'd hope a neighbour would do the same for us. Poor bastard would have been staring at his closed door for two hours. At least this way he had company and conversation.
Now I feel like chicken.
Have chicken.
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