Last night at two, Kinga and I were awoken by extremely loud music coming from the parking lot behind our building. Unable to go back to sleep, I went out to the car to ask them to turn the music down. I knocked on the driver’s window. No response, and no wonder – he had his tongue down his date’s throat. I checked the license plate and headed back in.
In the meantime, the music became not-quite-so-loud – don’t know what happened – and I decided not to make an issue of it.
I got back into the apartment, slid back into bed, and suddenly the volume jumped up again.
Putting my sweatpants back on, I mumbled a curse and picked up my cell phone. If this guy causes problems, I think, I’ll just call the police while I’m standing there.
I go back out to the car, and knock on the driver’s window. This time, it’s a girl in the driver’s seat. Facing the rear of the car. With her head pressed against the roof.
Wonder what was going on.
She looks over at me, and slides off the guy to the passenger seat as he powers down the window.
“We’re done,” he says softly.
“Doesn’t appear that way, but whatever you say,” I think, but instead, simply point out the time and the proximity of our bedroom window.
“We’re all done,” he repeats, with an embarrassed grin.
“Why are you telling me this?” I think.
I turn to go and he calls out an apology.
The music ceased, but I never heard a car engine start in the half hour or so it took me to fall back asleep.