Thursday, May 04, 2006
You know what your problem is? (Or, how I learned to stop worrying and love the bomb. Or, how I learned to start telling everyone what to do.)
The fraternity moved out of the house next door and several oily, red-eyed, suburban, urban wannabees moved in. Apparently, they rolled out of cozy beds in their parents' Mountain Brook homes and decided to drive their Suburban, BMW, Land Rover and Volvo caravan (think safety!) down to the slums. Making a feeble attempt at friendliness, I asked one of them if he was our new neighbor. He said, "No, but I'm in the band." At that moment, I would have given at least $40 to have that fraternity move back in.
Recently, one of them left his custom-plated BMW unlocked with a guitar in the back seat. "You might want to lock your door," I suggested. "Well," he said, "I used to live down here and I'm not afraid." I think perhaps he missed the point. What I was really saying was "Lock your door so that people don't break in to my car as well." I think he had his backpack stolen a few days later.
It's probably time for me to give that back to him.
After our initial exchange,I, not knowing what this enigmatic "member of the band" was talking about and not really being able to read his lips because of the green cloud surrounding his head, looked at him in bewilderment and continued to dig in my flower bed. I, for possibly the first time in my life, was rendered speechless. Later, I said, "I'm not sure, but I think the remaining members of Phish moved in next door." I guess Trey won't be joining them.
Last week, they put a little flag on their porch with their band name on it. It irritates me, but that's probably because it's something I would do if I were cool (even in my own mind) and in a band. Even a lame one.
Did I mention they smoke a lot? If you're looking for a cheap thrill, come sit on our porch at about 4:20 some afternoon. Our dog has gained 5 pounds and I found myself wanting to eat a package of cold hotdogs yesterday.
And no, they aren't Moses Mayfield.