An Open Letter To My Neighbor Who Called The Cops On Me

It was an eventful Saturday night at my apartment complex.

A few of my friends and I went to Brewfest at the Utica Zoo, then we came back to my apartment to play a video game and hang out. My television volume was on number 8 out of approximately 70. It was about midnight, and I heard a knock on my front door.

There you were, my upstairs neighbor, standing with our property manager (let's call him Ron for the sake of the story.) He said to me, "We've gotten another noise complaint." And that's when I went back in my mind to all of the times you've said we were being loud.

When we were moving in, we were listening to music and had people over helping us move in the middle of the day. We were being too loud. We had two of our friends over on a Wednesday around 8 pm and had music on volume level number 7. You told us you "haven't slept in days," and we were being too loud.

We had friends over a few weeks ago similar to what we had this past Saturday. Not only did you call our property manager and complain, but you confronted me asking if I could let you know when we were planning to have people over so you could adjust your life accordingly and take your nightly sleeping medication.

Ron then walked inside our apartment to observe for himself. He made a point to mention to me that he had been upstairs with you to see if he could hear what you were hearing, and said it was very faint. That it wasn't worth you calling him for.

As I stood by the door, you then started yelling at me and in my face; it took everything in me to keep my comments to myself. Ron then came back outside to you, and to settle the dispute said, "Just be courteous."

Listen, it was a Saturday night. It's not like it's late on a Tuesday. We weren't blasting music, we weren't screaming and being obnoxious. We were literally sitting on my couch in my living room hanging out.

From there, my boyfriend and I were trying to figure out the next best way to handle the situation - so he came upstairs to try and discuss with you what can be done to make you happy.

What I don't understand now is why you reacted the way you did. You started screaming at him to go away, to not push into your house (which to me is a completely unnecessary statement, he wasn't pushing anything - he was just standing there,) that we are ridiculous and that you don't care what day of the week it is - we are "too young." Meanwhile, he was just trying to figure out a solution to make you happy. And you called the police.

When you live in an apartment complex where the walls are thin, it's kind of a general understanding that there will be some noise. It's not like we were inside throwing a raging party - we had friends over. Little do you know, you make noise too. When you walk around, we hear it. When you work out with your medicine balls and drop them on the floor, we hear it. Yet, because I've lived in multiple apartment buildings with thin walls, I understand what comes with that.

I know the woman who lived in our apartment before us had an opposite schedule to you. Unfortunately for you, we both work normal business hours. So you'll have to get used to things not being the way they've been for the past ten years.

The poor State Troopers made their way to the complex, and we talked to them for about ten minutes explaining the situation. There's other more important things they could have been dealing with Saturday night. Instead, they came to see what really was a case - just an overreaction. The one Trooper I spoke to made the point to say to both of us, "you shouldn't feel like prisoners in your own home." I don't even know if they came to talk to you - because less than five minutes later I looked out the window and they were gone.

That's exactly what I feel like. I'm nervous constantly about how loud things are. What level volume our TV is on (sometimes it's louder to hear over our air conditioner,) how loud I'm talking, when I have people over how loud they are being. I shouldn't have to constantly be in a state of worry in the place that is my safe zone.

I think we fall into the category of normal neighbors. We have people over for dinner. We watch movies. All within what we believe to be a reasonable time of day, and day of the week. It was a Saturday night. We weren't blasting music and being crazy. We were just living.

Yesterday, you tried to apologize and justify yourself. I'm not buying any of it. I told you to please defer any comments you have about the situation to Ron, because quite frankly I'm tired and I'm done dealing with anything you have to say.

To you, my upstairs neighbor, life could be much worse for you. We could be throwing parties. We could be extremely disrespectful people. Instead, we were trying to help in a way that isn't absurd. It's an invasion of my privacy for me to let you know when I'm having people over, so that's gonna be a hard no from me. Maybe get some noise cancelling headphones and listen to a playlist of ocean sounds. It sounds like that's the kind of thing you need.

From, your downstairs neighbor.

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