Everyone Loves a Boston Girl

My apartment building is generally pretty peaceful. It seems to be filled with mostly couples owning large dogs. And apart from the boys who lived here the first year I was here (hmmm that was fun), it seems like everyone is a bit older than me and my roomie. So, when we heard all kinds of noise coming from upstairs, we couldn’t figure out what was going on. Insanely loud music. And singing. In fact, on one Monday, the residents spent the entire day playing “Say it Ain’t So” by Weezer over and over and over. “Wow,” we thought. “They must be SO incredibly depressed the Patriots lost the Super Bowl and this is their way of mourning.” It seemed fitting at least. But that didn’t make it any better. The boy who was singing was NOT good. In fact, it was more of a pathetic wailing than a singing. I started to become even more dismayed by the Patriots loss; it was going to affect me much more than I originally thought.

It quieted down for a few days, but then last Sunday it got bad again. Non-stop music and horrible singing. “Did they start a band?” we wondered. But, no. We heard no drums, or amps, and it just wasn’t possible that boy could think he was good enough to be in a band. It had to be some sort of karaoke or something though, since it was obvious he was singing into a microphone. Finally I decided to go upstairs and investigate.

Sure enough, the racket was coming from the apartment directly above mine. We stood by the door listening. Awful awful singing. And now we could hear drums. Well, drumsticks anyway. Drumsticks making pathetic drum sounds. There was definitely some sort of guitar too. And that’s when we realized. These boys were in possession of the video game Rock Band. A game you really should not be allowed to have if you are not at all musically-inclined.

We stood outside the door and considered knocking. Telling them to shut up. Or maybe asking if we could play too. But we didn’t. Because they sounded annoying. You know how you can tell just from someone’s voice what kind of people they are? Well, we decided they sounded annoying and not-cute. So we ran down the stairs when we heard them leaving (I know. We’re so mature). Now I kind of regret it, though. What if they happen to be cute? The first year I was in Boston, I lived in this building for 8 months before I realized there was a cute boy upstairs. And by the time we met, he was getting ready to move out. It would be a shame if that happened again. Wouldn’t it? But then I remember. His voice. His horrible dying animal, wailing voice. I think it will be better if we never meet.