Even though I was warned which neighborhoods tend to be loud and rambunctious, deep into my apartment search last year, I was so excited to find a cheap apartment close to campus that I couldn’t resist. I’m a bit older than a typical undergraduate student, and not so big into the party scene, but I figured my ability to tune people out, partnered with my ability to sleep very soundly, would equal too good an opportunity. So yes, I was forewarned by current students and some very helpful assistants in the Off-Campus Student Services office.
I was not, however, prepared for the onslaught of window-shaking, teeth-rattling, all-night rumbles of sound systems and booming voices every Wednesday through Sunday night. Still, I was able to ignore most of it, taking refuge under large headphones or joining get-togethers at friends’ houses farther off campus. I’m ridiculously easy to get along with and I wasn’t about to spoil anyone’s fun by calling the police or crossing the yard to instigate an argument with my neighbors.
It was obnoxious but tolerable. I did, however, nearly lose my mind when my walls were shaking past 4 a.m. the Sunday night/Monday morning before midterms this past Spring Quarter. That was the only time I’ve ever gone next door and let out a stern “REALLY?” on their front porch.
Summer was pleasantly tranquil compared to the ruckus of football and basketball seasons. Most students had gone home and I was taking classes and working at night. I knew the commotion was quickly approaching again, but I enjoyed the few months off, invested in new ear plugs and vowed to join the festivities more this year when I had the chance.
That optimism came to a screeching halt the very first weekend of the semester. Move-in weekend was smooth and I met a few friendly faces new to the street. But the weekend after classes started was terrible. I worked overnight Friday and Saturday, so I was already disappointed that I couldn’t begin to act on my “If you can’t beat ’em, join ’em” mentality. But when I returned home each morning, I had more and more reasons to stop wanting to be part of it. Cigarette burns on my patio furniture; broken glass all over my front steps; garbage, bottles and more broken glass all over the back lot where I park my car and even some painted, ahem, “genitalia” on the path to my front door.
And as the universe’s way of rubbing salt into the wound, I walked inside my house to see my renewed lease sitting on top of a stack of papers I had left out. Oh, sweet irony.
The neighbors I’ve shared passing “hello’s” with have seemed so mature and considerate – during the day. So, I’m really surprised that the severity of their rowdiness has been increasing.
I am in my mid-20s (you don’t need a specific number), and I have already done the wild, breaking-out-of-your-parents’ grasps that I assume most of my 19- to 21-year-old neighbors are embracing. But you’re adults and parts of a community now, so grow up and stop wrecking my stuff. Have your fun but don’t be animals about it.
So it is my plea, dear OSU community, that you remind yourselves and your partygoers to have some class, be neighborly, turn your music down after 2 a.m. or so, and stop making the people next door hope you get evicted.