Apparently a noisy, muffler-less car, a blaring car radio, and an abnormally loud mouth are not enough to pound against my ultimate desire for quiet. Never mind that on beautiful fall evenings like this, I cannot sleep with my window opened because I will be woken up anywhere between midnight and 2 a.m. by the obnoxious unemployed, high school drop out who lives next door. Let’s not even discuss that sometimes, even with the windows closed, he plays his music in his bedroom loud enough at those hours to jar me awake. No. That clearly wasn’t satisfying enough. The kid seems to be on a quest to make me snap completely & run out to buy a bazooka.
Tonight he is driving a mini bike up and down the street. A very loud mini bike, which, by the way, are illegal in NYC. But hey, this kid’s parents gave him the car keys to their BMW when he was 14 years old and let him drive so they’ve established long ago that they don’t much care what is or isn’t within the law.
At times like this, I wish we lived where my parents lived on Long Island; in a town where, if you called because your garbage can was on fire, within 10 seconds there would be 2 police cars, 3 fire engines and a paramedic.
