This building has very few, but very simple rules: no loud parties during the week, no loud parties running past 11pm on weekends, don't let people you don't know into the building, remove your laundry within 10-15 minutes of the machine finishing and only do laundry between the hours of 8am and 8pm. There are a few apartments with windows overlooking the courtyard leading to the laundry room and the people living in them can hear the machines when they are running. One of the washers seems to be trying to eject the drum at extremely high speeds in an effort to express just how much it hates the puny humans that abuse it.
So, this particular woman has the bad habit of starting her laundry at 6.30 am during the week, and putting the wet laundry into the dryers before she leaves for work. She is some highly strung workaholic who often doesn't seem to come home until late in the evening. Which means that not only is she starting up noisy (potentially murderous) machines very early in the morning, but she is leaving her clothes in the dryer for at least an entire day. Not only is this downright inconsiderate of everyone else living in the building, but it is causing some problems in an otherwise friendly building.
Here is the problem - not only is the noise a factor, but there is also the issue of what to do when you just need to use both dryers. Do you pull her laundry out of the dryer and put yours in? Not only is it just weird to touch someone else's clothing in general, but you are also dealing with more intimate things, like her underwear. I won't go into detail, but she wears some interesting stuff. It is all very cute and probably too expensive to just be thrown into a dryer - no grandma panties here, boys. Maybe some of the guys in the building don't mind handling her undies for various reasons, but I do not. Not only do I get irritated by the fact that I am put in that position, but there is also the unrational fear of getting caught. What if she walks in while I am piling her things on the folding table? I shouldn't have to worry about that as she is clearly in the wrong and I am not what you would ever call a timid person, but I have good reason for fearing the wrath of the naughty underwear lady. (I love that word 'naughty'. No matter how it is used, it always sounds like so much fun.)
A few weeks ago, one of the gentlemen living in my building had finally had enough of this lady and her laundry shenanigans. I came home to find a very interesting bra hanging from my doorknob that did not belong to me. It had a label attached to it stating who it belonged to and how long it had been sitting in the dryer taking up space. The whole building had been draped in her laundry, most of it her underwear. Needless to say, the lady was not happy. She complained to the live-in building manager who just the day before had been informed that he no longer held that title, so he had a happy time telling her he couldn't do anything to help her. He is my neighbor and came right over afterwards to tell me all about it and was laughing like a loon about the whole thing. She essentially just stomped back down to her apartment, slammed the door, and behaved herself laundrywise for the next few weeks.
Today seemed like it was going to be a pretty nice day. The fog that had been hanging so low over the city and numbing everyone's brain had lifted and it actually seemed like we might get a summer day. Some really weird trees on the street outside my window that have these bright orange, poofy flowers on them were beginning to bloom and the color was fabulous. Neighborhood kids were outside traveling in packs up and down the street, happy to get at least one sunny day during their summer vaction. I went out and ran some errands, picked up some Fritz's fries for lunch (with balsamic vinegar ketchup and pesto mayo - don't knock it 'til you've tried it), and eventually headed back home.
I could hear the male hyenas laughing before I even opened the door to the building. The whole lobby was decorated with underwear. It was hanging from the newel post of the staircase, taped with packing tape to the light fixtures, and every one of the mailboxes had something attached to it. I could see why no one had complained about this woman for a while - there was enough underwear scattered around to suggest she just hadn't been doing her laundry for a few weeks. I will say one thing for working all the time - it seems to provide you with a huge budget for fancy lingerie.
More underwear was hanging from the railing of the staircase and I was a bit skeeved out about using it for balance as I climbed up to my apartment. Yes, ok, fine, they had all been washed and dried (obviously), but still. Eeeew. The guys in my building might be overjoyed to play with her thongs but I most definitely am not. Three of my fellow tenants were sitting on the top step drinking beer and laughing about their latest panty raid and looking very pleased with themselves. I said hello, agreed it was all very funny, and left them with the suggestion that no one take any souvenirs because that would be theft rather than just a practical joke. My apartment was nice and quiet and I was happy to be in it ignoring my juvenile neighbors.
At about 7pm, the banshee came home. I don't know what else to call her - she was certainly shrieking like one and was threatening death to anyone who had a hand in the great underwear escapade. She ran up and down the hallways banging on doors demanding that whomever had touched her property come out so she could kick their ...um....behinds. Of course, it sounded much more serious than that, but I am trying to keep this at least PG rated. I opened my door to her banging and almost shut it again immediately, just to defend myself from the finger she started poking in my face. Her face was bright red and her voice had risen to such a high pitch it was almost squeaky and made my ears hurt. I couldn't even completely understand what she was saying because she was so angry she had become incoherent. And that annoying finger was less than an inch from my eyeball and made me happy I was up to date on my tetanus shot. And that I had two eyeballs in case I lost one. If something went wrong, maybe I would look as cute as Darryl Hannah did wearing her eyepatch in Kill Bill 2. I did not like her finger.
I really don't like conflict. I don't like public displays of anger. In fact, I just don't like anger. I do get angry now and then but usually I just get irritated for 20 minutes or so and then try to let it all go. Being angry just seems to take up so much energy and nothing good ever comes from it. Angry, screaming people really turn me off, too. This out of control angry banshee blasting me with the most amazingly dirty language really was too much. Up to that point, I had nothing personal against this woman. Yes, she was annoying. Yes, she stressed me out when it came to laundry, but there are far worse things in the world. Most of the time I just ignored her and the world kept turning just fine. But for her to start abusing me verbally in my own doorway was about all I could take. I think I just stood there staring at her looking like an intellectually challenged tree stump, but really I was trying to stop myself from doing a Bruce Lee on her and grabbing that annoying finger, bending it backwards as far as I could to see if I could change the pitch of her scream, and then slamming my apartment door in her face. Those doors are heavy - when they slam, the whole block can hear them. Not only do I hate anger, I really hate physical violence and feel both extremely offended and doubly attacked when someone actually pushes me to the point of wanting to hurt them.
By this time, everyone in the building who was home was standing on the landing outside my apartment door watching what was taking place. I saw the three geniuses who'd had the braniac idea to decorate the building with her underwear standing behind her. I looked at them and said, "Well? Are you going to tell her or should I?" I didn't think the banshee could actually hear me over all the noise she was making but I guess I was wrong. She stopped in mid-shriek and turned around to see who I was talking to.
I will give these guys some credit - they absolutely did not expect the banshee to go off the deep end like that. I don't believe any of them were being malicious, they were just really tired of her completely inconsiderate behavior and took their revenge a little too far. And they did own up to what they had done, but unfortunately, they didn't seem at all sorry. Not by a long shot. The banshee started up again, verbally abusing the three stooges who started yelling back about how she was a selfish, annoying, bad neighbor (oooooh, that last insult was LOW) that the whole building hated and they just had the guts to do something about it. It was starting to sound like the Pogues song "Fairytale of New York" but without the love or singing police officers at the end.
I could hear heavy footsteps and squawking radios coming up the stairwell and saw what seemed like an entire platoon of San Francisco's finest pushing through the crowd of my neighbors - someone had called the police. The question was who and what would happen? As the officers separated the banshee from the stooges and started collecting stories, one of the women in my building started picking up the underwear lying around and putting it into a paper bag she had brought up. In my opinion, she was just trying to be nice to the banshee with the potty mouth. Unfortunately for her, the banshee didn't agree and actually flew at her. I am not joking, I don't think her feet were touching the ground. She grabbed a handful of the nice neighbor's hair and gave it a good yank before the police pulled her off, pushed her face down onto the carpet and handcuffed her. Several people clapped; I was still making like a tree stump and staying quiet.
The three stooges started yelling at the banshee again and she returned fire, accusing them of being perverts and demanding DNA tests be done on her underwear to test for fluids. Gross! I finally unstuck my tongue from the roof of my mouth and asked her if she suspected them of messing with her undies, why did she attack me? She just looked at me like I was an idiot and said I was the only person who opened the door and she had to yell at someone. That infallible logic stumped me (heehee 'stumped', get it?) and I went back to my previous state of total silence. The stooges started yelling at her all over again, this time on my behalf. I wanted everyone to just be quiet but I also felt that they should stick up for me because they caused the whole mess. The least intelligent of the three decided to contribute a voluntary DNA sample by spitting on the banshee, which ended up with him also lying on the floor in handcuffs. The score was now 1-1, but with no one else on the banshee's team she would probably lose unless she was let out of the penalty box soon. However, she did have the secret weapon of her incredibly inflammatory vocabulary and since no one had gagged her, she continued to verbally abuse the other two.
Over the next hour, the police tried to get statements from everyone standing around, including me. It was slow going though because the banshee and the stooges were all hopped up on caffeine or Energizer batteries or something and were definitely going strong. When the banshee wasn't screaming about the perverts spewing who knows what on her underwear, she was complaining about her dust allergies and how much the carpet stinks. I will agree with the smelly carpet statement - I wouldn't want to be face down on it anytime soon. The stooges were making equally insulting statements about how there was no way they could ever spew anything on her underwear because just the thought of it made any spew-producing equipment non-functional. That is an extremely edited version of what the stooges acutally said, by the way.
Eventually, the police finished with the statement gathering, collected all the incident causing underwear as evidence, and put the two handcuffed neighbors in separate cruisers to be taken down and booked, Dan-o. During the whole drama, one of the officers had stood toward the back of the crowd looking a bit bored. He was older - maybe around 50 or so - and had said very little throughout the whole thing. As everyone was starting to wander off to their own apartments, I asked him what he thought about the whole mess. He said that as far as he was concerned, this was exactly the type of call he would prefer to be sent out on - no one was actually hurt, no weapons were involved, and even though 2 people had been arrested, most likely no DA would take it to trial. These two would just spend the night in jail to cool off and hopefully regain their senses. His opinion gave the whole thing a different perspective, one I could appreciate.
Was any of this actually worth it? Three guys in my building played a joke on a woman who didn't seem to care that she was acting like a bad neighbor. In a small building with all of us literally living right on top of each other, it is very important that we all try to be understanding and accomodating. I believe that philosophy goes both ways - she should have extended that consideration to her neighbors, but her neighbors never did anything to try and find a positive way to change the situation. I don't know if anyone ever spoke to this woman about how her behavior was annoying everyone in the building - I know I never did.
What those guys did was funny, but it was also humiliating and I think that is what set her off in the end. If someone took my underwear and displayed it for everyone to see I would be upset too. Think about it - now everyone who looks at you can imagine what you are wearing under your clothing. The most personal part of your wardrobe has been spread out all over the building. Unauthorized people have been TOUCHING these pieces of clothing. Yeah, I can see why she was angry. I think she was totally out of control, but I can understand why. I can also understand why the guys did it in the first place - if someone leaves belongings unattended in a public place and inconveniences other people, then those belongings could arguably be considered fair game.
In the end, I believe nothing good came from this whole debacle. The two jailbirds will be released in the morning with their own sides of the story to tell all their friends. The property owners will most likely have to get involved, and that usually isn't a good thing. Previously content people in the building will now be living with the idea that if they do something their neighbors don't like, someone could go vigilante on them. Saddle up posse, you have all been deputized. Let's go nail some varmints. A huge, ugly drama exploded out of a fight over laundry. Totally childish, completely ridiculous.
I have to be honest, though. The inital joke WAS funny. One drawback to living in a small building is that it sort of functions like a college dorm at times and otherwise mature adults can end up acting like irresponsible students. And panty raids are an old college tradition, right? Think of Belushi in Animal House.
I am trying to take something positive away from all of this: the banshee didn't manage to poke out one of my eyes, my ears have finally stopped ringing from her screaming, and it wasn't my underwear draped all over the building. Sometimes, it is the little things in life that make it sweet.
