The New Kids on the Block

OMG wouldn't it be like totally awesome if 2 cute, single guys moved into the apartment on the first floor?
I don't know. There's a good chance if they're cute and single they'll be loud, rude and obnoxious.

And let's not forget young. We're talking celebrating his 21st birthday young. It seemed a little too good to be true. They moved in and from the get go, friendly guys, holding doors open, offering a Beehive to their new neighbor. The welcome (and excitement) was short lived. Get togethers until midnight, their apartment door wide open, music blaring.

The pinnacle was a couple of weekends ago when one of the guys turned 21 (my age detection meter, clearly needing repair). We had our own get together for the festival of lights parade that night. As our party ended, there's was just beginning. The front door open. Music blaring. We could hear conversations from their kitchen to ours (thanks to the B&B next door which reflects all kinds of sounds). I have never hear the f-bomb used so frequently in all of my life...and I spend time with some bad dudes.
It wasn't until about 11:30 that C and I watched them (okay, alright we've got nothing better to do but watch from our window, the happenings down below) all pile into a military van. We think we are clear for the evening until one of them shouts, "Jack Quinn's it is!" Shucks. This means these military guys are taking a van to a bar that is literally 3 blocks from here...which also means they'll be returning here....at about 2:00 a.m. Sure enough, as if I've had my own nights out, they returned just as predicted. The van reappeared and dropped the whole lot of them off (12-15?) except somebody has forgotten their key. This means that for the next 30 minutes there are f-bombs galore and lots of doorbell buzzes. We hear the neighbor yell, "come on guys knock it off." There is no knocking off. What to do....call the cops on the new neighbors. Go down in my skivvies and shake my fist at them? Did I mention there were 12-15 of them? I finally throw on my coat and with adrenaline pumping through my body I yell down the stairs to what appears to be a sober party-goer, "unhappy neighbor!" I don't know, it came to me. "This is unacceptable. This is not okay! 15 more minutes and I'm calling the cops!" Nice, way to use the scare tactic. The guy yells to the group -"she's going to call the cops." They shut the door. Hmph. Scare tactic works. . . . then the booming of the base.
It was the longest night. And the older I get, the harder it is to recover from sleepless nights.
C decides on Sunday it must be addressed. We first chat with the other neighbor. She too agrees this is not a frat house and this is not tolerable. The three of us head downstairs to confront the hooligans. I felt like a spinster who found her cause - there will be no loud music or f-bombs here sonny.
The new 21 year old opened the door. He took it all well and explained he had no idea what was going on at the apartment. He was passed out, after getting his teeth knocked out after a fight broke out. Sure enough, his garbled speech and defeated face said plenty.
I'm pleased to say since then, no wild parties and no loud music.
But now I'm on the other side. I'm a killjoy. I'm not going to be invited in for a cold drink... but I am going to get my 8 hours and I suppose that will have to do.