Back in high school, I had EPIC parties. My parents traveled a ton and my house would become the gathering spot. There was a bouncer who wouldn’t let me back in my house but let random people leave wearing my sister’s clothes! There was a missing wooden pigs tail found in a golf bag months later. There were 8 people in a bathtub meant for two. You get the picture.
This continued into my twenties and thirties. There were Hallowe’en parties at my first apartment where we realized we didn’t know half the people there since they were costumed. There were insane Christmas parties where we bought pizza with the money that was bet on how many stitches my buddy would get for a chin-drop gone wrong. (Five…and yes, he came back to party).
You get the idea.
Well people. The party is over. This morning at about 1:45am, I became old. I called the cops on kids having a party.
What’s next? Will I turn the volume down in the car? Will I start saying, ‘Oh yeah, well when I was a kid….’. Will I start to wear Depends?
Here’s the scoop. We live in a really quiet family neighbourhood. Except for the low-rise apartment building tucked among the houses. I went to bed at 10p and the party was rocking at the building. Okay, fine. I can deal, it’s only 10. At midnight, I was starting to get annoyed but tried to remember my parties back in the day. By 1:30, it was just getting louder and louder and I was getting more and more pissed off. So I looked up ‘non-emergency police calls’ on my phone and then literally sat like a judge on The Voice with my finger over the ‘call’ button.
Then the shotgun’ning contests started.
Countdown 3 -2 -1…. GO….. quiet….. then ROAR for the winner. Then I hit my buzzer and called. Enough was enough. Over and over again. Everyone congratulated by a voice who I will hear all day today yelling ‘JESUS F(*^^ING CH….’ . Listen. That is my swear word of choice. If James Lipton from Inside The Actors Studio interviewed me and asked for my favourite curse word, that would be my answer. But not at 1:45 in the morning.
I was horrified calling the cops. But I was also not prepared to go over there. Too many kids and frankly, I didn’t want to be a target. By 2:00a, two car doors closed and within two minutes, blissful silence.
I’d like to take a minute to apologize to all my neighbours who didn’t call the cops on me. You must have hated me. Or you had really fantastic earplugs.
If anyone needs me today, I’ll be over here drinking coffee and talking about the good old days – before the intrawebs and things.