It is Saturday night, I am working, the neighbors have amazing music, I feel like asking them to turn it up…
In my misspent youth, I soon found out that where party music sounds good, you can get a bottle of wine, dress nicely, smile, say “John invited us”, and you’re in.
But there were times when it didn’t quite go according to plan…
Such as the time when I (Caucasian) and some Asian friends tried to gatecrash a party that sounded just amazing, great music, awesome music system, we got so excited… We got our alcoholic offerings and knocked on the door. A smiling black man answered the door, with smiling black people from 4 generations behind him in the living room, all bearing a exceptional similarity in looks, dressed in their Sunday best, and well, you’ve probably guessed it, a family celebration! Red-faced, we quickly made our excuses. We had the wrong address we said. We went back to our homes and just watched TV on our own…
Years later, clearly this fiasco was forgotten, as I was tempted however again. I had not learnt my lesson.
My next door neighbours seemed to party every day. And I was not invited. The music, coming by the thick concrete walls, sounded amazing. The heavy bass, a nice beat, and the sound of their laughter, well it was more than I could bear! So, armed with a bottle of good wine, I gathered up my courage and knocked on their door; the point of no return. The door opened, they smiled broadly and said sure, I was more than welcome. They invited me in and I could see everyone was sat around the TV. Not many people truly, only a handful. All watching the film Jungle Book and singing and clapping along. I did not like Jungle Book. Oh dear. It was a long night.
My confront ached after hours of forcing a smile on my confront. My arms ached after hours of forcing myself to clap. Only my voice was intact, but that was because I didn’t know the words to the songs.
As soon as the film finally was allowed to finish, I thanked them as sincerely as I could muster and retreated to the relative excitement of my home.
Needless to say, that was the last party that I gatecrashed. Lesson learned.
The neighbours’ music next door (different character) sounds great as I write. I simply tap for the temptation. It goes away. I enjoy the music from afar. Life is good.