I guess I had a pretty naïve idea of my neighbours when I moved into the Beacon Hill condo blocks. My dad warned me months ago when I was looking at buying a place, “You’ll hate your neighbours if you buy there,” but I shrugged him off. Sorry to say, Dad was mostly right - I don’t hate my neighbours, but I dislike them very much.
There’s just one guy, really: my next door neighbour who is attached to me. His name is Bob. The first time I laid eyes on fifty-something Bob was the day after I moved in and I was leaving to go get some groceries. I was locking my door as he approached his entrance right beside me. I turned around with a smile to introduce myself, but he quickly barked, “It would be nice if you didn’t slam your door in the morning.”
I looked at him. Blinked with astonishment. Did he really just yell at me like that?
I don’t know what prompted his next comment, but I guess it was because I was staring at him with an angry, distorted look of disbelief... probably for a long time. “So, how’s school?” he asked.
“I don’t go to school,” I replied, and snobbishly explained that I worked in the Communications Department at the municipality.
“Oh, that’s good. The guy who used to live here was a teacher... (blah) (blah) (blah),” and he clumsily rambled on for 30 seconds longer, all the while slowly entering his house and closing his door.
I managed to cut in with an awkward, “Nice to meet you?” before the door closed. The whole interaction left me disappointed that my first meeting with my closest neighbour had gone so poorly, and outraged at the judgements he made about me in just 24 hours of me moving in.
The next meeting went a lot better. I caught him shovelling his sidewalk while I was walking home one afternoon, and I took the initiative to formally introduce myself. He was surprised but happy to hear that I owned, not rented, the condo. Then I pretended like I cared about the shit he was nattering on about and even ventured into his basement with him so he could show me the basement suite he was building. Eventually I broke free from Babbling Bob and went home.
The next day there was a note stuck in my door, from Bob, warning me not to back my car into the driveway because “kids around here like to smash headlights.”
A few days later I was getting ready to leave when my doorbell rang. It was Bob. “Just wanted to tell you not to back your car into the driveway because kids around here like to smash headlights,” he explained.
ME: “Yeah I got your note. Thanks.”
BOB: “I wanted to tell you again because I noticed you backed in last night.”
ME: “Yeah I had to get a desk out of the trunk when I got home, so backing in was easier. Thanks again.”
BOB: “Oh okay, bye bye.”
A few minutes later my doorbell rang again.
BOB: “Oh I forgot to tell you to be careful when you unlock your door because once I lost my keys...” and he proceeds to tell me how there’s some kind of four foot hole that swallowed his keys and he couldn’t get them out. I can’t give you the dialogue on this because I had no clue what he was on about.
NICOLE: “Oh okay, thanks Bob. Well, I better get to work.”
Who is this guy? I hate feeling like if I back into the driveway that my doorbell is going to ring. When I approach my house and I see that he’s home, I cringe because I feel like he’s staring out his window, testing me to see if I’ll back in and defy his orders.
On the bright side, there’s a drug rehab house on the other side of Bob. And the bright side is that it’s not a drug house, “rehab” is slapped right there in the middle. Don’t even get me started on the crooked-eyed aboriginal fellow who constantly enters and exits this particular house, obviously brain damaged from drug use and/or inhaling aerosols/gasoline. (This is not a racist remark by the way – I talked to the guy so I know he is/was fucked up on something.)
Anyhow, I guess my visions of smiling neighbours carrying over pies or other tasty treats to welcome me to the neighbourhood was in fact extremely naïve. I guess this is how things go in the 'hood.
I'm an educated fool with money on my mind
Got my tin in my hand and a gleam in my eye
I'm a low down gangsta, set tripping banger
And my homies is down so don't arouse my anger
Fool, death ain't nothing but a heart beat away
I'm living life do or die, what can I say?
I'm twenty-three now but will I live to see twenty-four
The way things is going I don't know.