Apartment Living: Parking hell

Unlike most posts, this isn't about our apartment, but instead the duplexes across the street. Last night was a 3 round doosy of a fight. All the 4 letter words were dragged out.

The situation:

Across the street are duplexes. Two unit "houses", with two garages. One garage for each unit.

All of these garages are converted into illegal apartments. No way would the city code office permit these.

Thus a duplex is really a faux quadplex. Each house has four families living there, with 4 (or 6 or 8) automobiles. And no garage parking. So all these cars cram into the concrete pad.

The start of the fight:

The quadplex across the street, the same one with the parties that happen any day ending in "Y" takes up almost all of the concrete pad. They even have a "classic" car under a cover that is permanently parked there, as well as a boat on the street.

The tenant on one of the far side units of the illegal quadplex often has his car boxed in. He has torn out his undercarriage going over the curb to get in and out. He, rightly in my opinion, believes that he shouldn't be this inconvenienced.

Last night the simmering pot boiled over. Fuck you's, motherfuckers, bitches, whores, and a lot of other colorful language started flying around 7:00 PM. Lasting until almost 8, we thought "Phew, it is done". Not so. Started again at 9:00, and I just gave up.

Yep, life never gets boring.

Apartment Life – the less pleasant bit(s)

I forgot how much “fun” it was living in close proximity with a wide demographic. That was brought back into focus last night around 11:40.

The master bedroom is facing the street (boo) but it also is over the little patio we have on the back. At about 11:40, there was a bit of a family feud going on. Drunk Boyfriend was yelling at the kids. Something about not putting something else away or some such crap. Yada yada. Then the mother gets into it, and off to the races. It turns into a monster screaming match until almost 1:00AM.

No physical violence, but enough 4 letter words and motherfuckers to peel paint.

Sigh

Reminds me of the Condo’s we lived in back in 2003. South San Jose near Bernal and 101. Not a bad place, and we owned (I don’t think there were too many rentals there).

Our neighbor across the walkway was a single asian-american woman, real nice person when we talked to her. But she played the field. There were at least 3 boyfriends who would come and spend the night. And every Sunday morning there would be a fight. We used to call it “Sunday Morning Fights” and listen in while we were eating breakfast.

This was different, yet it was the same.

I have to remember that we are renting, and as such are transitory here. As is every other tenant.

Still, I am saddened by the argument last night, and hope it doesn’t repeat. Alas, I will not be surprised to have it replay frequently.