The Voice From Down Below

December 18, 2020 – 1:09 AM

It is remarkable to me how some voices can carry so loudly.

I, for one, have a soft voice, which is why I have forever disliked the din of a crowded bar or even a noisy restaurant. I attend concerts, yes, but I am there to listen, and perhaps share a few sparse comments with a friend, but mainly I exist in my own focused world at a show. If you want to go someplace with someone who is going to be there in full attention but not bother you any more than absolutely necessary, I’m your man.  

Because I recognize my own personal annoyance when it comes to loud noises, I am especially careful when it comes to respecting others with the noise I make. I walk softly. I speak softly. I drive a quiet car. I would love to buy a drum set but that will have to wait until I have my own home with a garage. That sort of thing. As a result, when I am confronted by excessive noise from my environment, say a car that has been modified to be astoundingly loud, or a nearby jackhammer tapping away as I work in the office tower across the street, I am not just annoyed; my annoyance is amplified and turned up to eleven. I am angry. My heart pounds in my chest, my adrenaline streams out from whatever glands that stuff comes from, my muscles tense up and, if it happens to be 1:00 in the morning, I know I will not be able to sleep for quite some time. Going from eleven back down to one takes some time, after all.

January 11, 2020 – 3:47 AM

I cannot quite hear what he is saying, but I can certainly hear a series of loud muffled enunciations coming through the floor below. It has been this way a few nights each week, at varying volume levels, since November when he (or they) moved into the apartment downstairs. I say he, because he is that voice. I have an electric fan that I turn on before bed as a feeble attempt to create some sort of white noise that might drown out the lower level volume of noise that seems to perpetually emanate from down below. There are times that it seems to work, and I am grateful for that. But when that voice perks up and gets started, it seems to never, ever stop; not only is he blessed with volume, but he is also loquacious to the point that I cannot believe anyone would willingly tolerate such constant verbal artillery fire.

This voice is such a unique sound that, were I to move across the country, I might still hear him speaking now and then in my mind’s ear and immediately know who it is. It has a high-pitched hoarseness to it that I find stands out from any others I have ever heard. The hoarseness, perhaps, comes from the constant strain of speaking at such a high volume.

Suddenly this has become a chicken and the egg scenario… which came first, the yelling or the hoarseness? I may think about this for the next hour…

January 13, 2020 – 2:21 AM

Tonight, I took things to another level. A second night in 3 days calls for serious action. So, I decided to get out of bed this time, and stomp around my apartment a little bit. I went into the washroom and walked over to the living room. That’ll teach them, I thought. A good old-fashioned stomp from above. Truly the most classic method to solve this problem. Could not fail.

And yet, to my surprise, it seemed as though they didn’t even notice me. Not even a slight break in the conversation. And a heated conversation at that. Sounded like a group of young men playing video games. There were hoots and hollers, taunts and terse words. Could I be the only one hearing this? Do my other neighbours sleep through this torture, unbothered? I can’t believe that. I wonder if they have submitted any complaints. I wonder how I would submit a complaint. Maybe the time has come for me to use the full extent of my complaint-based powers and go straight to the top… That’s right, the condo board. I’ll give that some serious consideration in the morning.

February 2, 2020 – 2:40 AM

After a few weeks of peace – I am sure it was because of the convincing email I sent to my landlord, which must have eventually made its way to the unit owners below – the noise is back again. This time, though, it sounds more serious. I think he is having a phone conversation with someone. He seems distraught. From the few words I can make out, I think he might have lost his job. I’ll let him have this one, if that’s the case. I’ll try to shove my ears into my pillow and bedding and trust that this disturbance won’t last very long.

It struck me tonight, after all this frustration I’ve felt about this guy, all the energy I have put into thinking about how he has been affecting my life these last few months, that I don’t even know what he looks like. I could not pick him out of a lineup to save my own life. Perhaps if he was asked to speak, I would be able to point out the culprit. But truly, what’s this man’s story? Where is he from? Why the constant late nights?

He sounds young, is he a student, living the student life, oblivious to the elderly residents and young families living within earshot?

Maybe he worked at a hospital, putting in odd-hour shifts. He could be saving lives, caring for patients, keeping the place clean and safe for everyone. Does that make his loud nights forgivable, somehow?

Does he ever think about how his presence might be affecting those around him? How does one live their entire life oblivious to their affect on others? What is this blissful state of being, this mystical level of ignorance that allows one to occupy a bubble of existence without regard to the needs of others? Was there ever a time in my life when I lived this way?

Do I thank him now, for triggering this cascade of existential questions that will prevent me from sleeping for a while longer tonight? I dare say, likely not.

February 10, 2020 – 12:16 AM

I think… is he having a party? Did he find another job? Why are there so many people out below the balcony, yukking it up under my bedroom window?

How there can be more than one individual in a group, past midnight, gathered in and around an apartment complex, with not one blessed soul making even a passing attempt to manage group volume, I cannot understand. The added twist tonight is the constant shock of opening and closing doors, be it from those exiting for a smoke and re-entering, or perhaps people going to the washroom, or for all I know it could be a baking party and the kitchen cabinets are clattering incessantly. All I know is that my electric fan can drown out some volume, but it is no match for vibrations rattling up the walls into my room from doors aggressively opening and shutting.

I roll out of bed, having given up on even attempting to use my go-to stomping strategy, knowing full well they do not know nor care that there is a living breathing human being existing above their heads. No, I head straight to the computer this time. I write up an email to my landlord, I submit a noise complaint to the city, I pray to the gods that some peace and quiet may come into my life one day soon. I make a note to look for new apartments in the morning, and a second note to make a life plan that will see me off to the rural countryside in the near future.

I begin to brainstorm my newly quiet life, as the universe displays her biting sense of humour by having me vaguely hear the strumming of the song Quiet by The Smashing Pumpkins from the gathering on the first floor. Hilarious, everyone… hilarious.

March 1, 2020 – 6:00 PM

I am walking home from work and notice that the apartment below me now appears to be empty. My now former neighbours must have moved out. I breathe a quiet sigh of relief.

A temporary respite, I tell myself. I will not be fooled again, as The Who exclaim so loudly, at appropriate times during the day in my life. My sights remain set on rural living. I envision a quiet space in the woods, with only the peepers and owls to disturb my precious sleep. I hurriedly enter my living space, with an extra hop in my step, and continue mapping out all the ways I can quietly convert my vision into reality. And tonight, I know I will rest.