Some people are just rude.
Their rudeness cannot be overshadowed even when you are kind to them.
Maybe they do not seem rude to their friends, but most likely, their friends are rude too. Perhaps not one hundred percent rude, but any negative quality can stain the clearest of water.
The other night in Paris, the neighbor upstairs was away, and her son and his friends (who I had never met before) were having a party. The music was loud. Yann and I are known to be able to sleep anywhere and put up with a lot of muck before we crack. Last night was an actual test of our patience. At three in the morning, Yann knocked on their door to ask them to turn off the music. He was so polite. I thought that was why I married him. He keeps his cool; he isn't a macho man.
They obliged for fifteen minutes.
At four in the morning, Yann again knocked on their door, telling them loudly to turn off their music. This was the third time since I had known Yann that I heard him talk madly at someone. They couldn’t grasp the problem… why were we bothered,
«… it was Saturday night; I guess it makes it alright….»
At six in the morning, my thoughts were growing dark, like how this morning I was going to crank up polka music or play "some more of that funky music" … something that would have them begging us to stop; of course, we would leave our apartment for the day. But, Yann rationalized, « Corey, playing their game doesn’t make you better. » I gruntingly agreed,
«What! You mean I can’t get no satisfaction… »
As they were playing a hip version of "I will survive! Oh, as long as I know how to love, I know I will stay alive!” I felt like dancing. Sometimes, well often, I wonder if I am dreaming because I have the weirdest thoughts. And more bizarre, the song " Only shooting stars break the mold" started playing in my head. How could I be thinking of dancing? Instead, We knocked on their door again… it didn’t change anything; it made it worse. They changed their style of music and blasted it to the beat of Acid Rock. Maybe, it was because I said,
« What part of turning your music off do you not understand? Are you stupid or drugged? »
Yes, I was mad. You might say I became a badass after a night of not dancing.
The beat goes on. It was ten in the morning; they started back up around one in the afternoon. Gabriel was having lunch with us and said, "Oh, Vavie, look, the chandelier is moving!"
"Now, that is what I call a dance party!"
What would you have done?
I wanted to call the police, but my husband, wouldn't hear of it. I think he grew deaf overnight.
Today, Oh, how I wanted to knock on their door and sing at the top of my lungs, out of key, not on purpose,
"Don't you know I'm still standin' better than I ever did?
Lookin' like a true survivor, feelin' like a little kid
And I'm still standin' after all this time…"
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