Monday, April 7, 2008


To many folks, my hubby and I may seem like pretty boring people. Our idea of a great day is a good lunch out, a nice long walk by the lake, and later enjoying a couple of beers and country music on tv.

But once in a while we get a little crazy. One such time was this past December, on a Saturday night.

As usual, we settled down with a couple of beers and a recording of the Porter Wagoner show, courtesy of Tivo. Well, a couple of beers turned into a couple more beers, and before you know it, we were both dancing around the living room, cranking up Hank Williams Jr. and Ice Cube, alternatively, on our stereo. We were both enjoying ourselves so much, that when the phone rang, we barely heard it. But then we heard a voice on the answering machine, and we turned the music down to listen.

“Hello, this is the front-desk security. We’ve got a complaint that there’s loud music coming from your apartment. We ask that you please turn down the music as a courtesy to your neighbors. Thank you.”

John and I looked at each other and just burst out laughing. Busted! We didn’t think the music was that loud, but okay, we didn’t want to make our neighbors even more mad. We turned down the music more.

Then John got the idea that we should listen to our police scanner, just in case someone in our building decided to call the actual police on us. So we turned off the music and headed into the bedroom to listen to the scanner. Nope—no noise complaints; just the usual Chicago murders and robberies. Phew! We were safe.

Just then, we heard a knock on our door. “Security!” the person yelled.

Acting on instinct, I instantly jumped into bed and threw the covers over my head. I’m sleeping—that’s my alibi—was my silly, panicked thought. (Okay, I was a bit under the influence!)

John, acting on his instinct, instantly jumped up, turned off all the lights (including the computer monitor) and ran his hands vigorously through his hair, making it all messed-up. Then, mustering up his best sleepy-guy imitation, he answered the door.

“Hello?” he grunted.

The security guard got an apologetic look on his face. “Oh, I’m sorry, sir. We had a noise complaint—but we must have the wrong apartment. So sorry!” He stepped away from the door.

“That’s okay,” John replied, yawning.

“Well, goodnight—and sorry again,” the security guard said as he headed to the elevator.

“Goodnight,” John replied and shut the door.

He came in the bedroom and we both burst out laughing, trying not to be too loud so the security guard could hear.

“I can’t believe you did that!” I laughed.

We felt like we were a couple of college kids, trying not to get busted by the dean.

Wow. Partiers with loud music, lying to security—I guess we’re not so boring, after all!


Buck said...

I'm surprised we weren't busted a few times when I was there. . . you know, dancing to Donna Summer and Abba.
Good times!

Lorraine said...

You guys crack me up!

Iwanski said...