Note: This is a follow up to the preceding post, please read in tandem.
London is approaching and my friends love me so they come and say goodbye one by one. Meather's turn is tonight. She arrives around seven and we decide to cook brownies because nothing goes better with shit talking and over analyzing other people's relationships than baked goods. No surprise that over our gossip we hear the techno blaring upstairs. Meather doesn't have internet at her job as a coal miner and has not yet read today's blog entry. As we mix the double fudge brownie batter I regale her with the tale of the techno listening, peg leg dragging, loud ass neighbors who kept me awake until four am the previous night. Meather, liking all things male and hating all things techno, insists that this is NOT okay and a confrontation is in order.
We put the brownies in the oven and head upstairs. We knock, nothing happens. We ring the door bell, nothing happens. We knock again. The techno music is far too loud and there is no way our the feeble sound of our hands slamming against the oak door. Meather reaches through the gate that adorns almost every DC town house door and tries the doorknob. It opens.
"Hello!" We scream into the empty hall. "It's your friendly neighbors from downstairs!"
"Hold on!" A male voice comes out of the depths of the house.
We wait. A tall blond boy suddenly appears at the gate. He is good looking and hurriedly putting on a shirt. His pants fit tightly he is wearing white keds. He is a hipster.
"Mid-afternoon rave?" I inquire.
He laughs. "Hi!"
"So are you practicing your DJ-ing skills?" Meather asks. We have been speculating about what sort of mid nineties club head listens to techno and trance music all day and night.
"Oh I have a gig on Saturday!" He says, a little proud. We are flabbergasted. He actually is a DJ. I expect a peg leg to come hobbling out of the corner. "Sorry is it too loud?"
"A little bit, yeah."
"Shit, come on in you can meet all the roommates and yell at us together!" He fumbles for a key and yells for his roommate. Meather and I exchange awkward glances and prepare to enter.
Three more boys come jogging down the stairs and from various other rooms in the house. To my shock and relief they all appear to have both arms and legs in tact. After a short struggle with the gate lock we enter. The walls have all be painted with a bit of a mural, a jungle theme with dogs, vines and tigers peering around doorways and corners. A large globe sits in the front room, there are ornate chairs and an armor that looks antique. This does not jive with the with the futon I can see in the back room and the hookah sitting on an old trunk. I am introduced to the other three boys. They are seemingly nice.
I inquire about there status in life. In addition to part time DJ-ing they are going into their final year at GWU. They are all hipsters but the tall one who answered the door is by far the best looking. I feel bad about my intended rant and make nice explaining that unfortunately I am in the working world and am forced to rise bright and early each morning at 7:30 a.m. They apologize and explain they have been waiting for the neighbors to complain. I tell them I'm happy to pop the neighbor complaint cherry. We laugh. I think we are best friends! They give us a tour and show us their intended crack den. This is what they tell us, that they are hoping to turn the family room of this 1.2 million dollar house into a literal crack den. They show us the rest of the house. It is bizarrely decorated, a mixture between some rainforest theme park ride and a frat house.
We ask them to blast some better music, preferable the Rolling Stones or maybe some Kings of Leon (I mean they're pretty hip right?). They agree to vary the music selection. We go downstairs to fetch our brownies. They are cute but I'm glad I'm moving out.
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