Ah, Tony

I'm living in a high rise in Belo Horizonte now ("Flat Horizonte") for a few weeks. Apparently it has reminded me of apartment living in Louisville because I've been thinking about Tony ... with great satisfaction.

The complex was very nice from the outside -- townhouses with outside stairs and walkways, the exterior all wood with landscaped walkways. There was a pool next to the club house office and it was in a nice suburb of the city.

What could go wrong? I was in my first job after graduate school and finishing my dissertation.

Soon after moving in I noticed that the complex wasn't very sound proof (a.k.a. poorly built) and odd noises coming from the apartment below. Admittedly, I'm sensitive to sound (must have my noise machine at night). But these were "thumps" and crashes against walls or furniture, and once even muffled cries of the wife saying, "Tony, don't! (crash!)." I called the police that night.

The situation became alarming. I complained, making note of every visit to the manager's office. I asked if they'd pay for a hotel until the issue was resolved. They wouldn't. I tried sleeping in my car after work one day (it was a nice office park nearby, don't worry.) I even tried sleeping in the bathtub.

On a holiday weekend, I remember being at a coffee shop in the nearby shopping center trying to work on my dissertation. I was delirious with lack of sleep and kept repeating Tony's name, like a chant.

Finally, the manager with some sympathy told me that the apartment next door to mine was currently vacant; I could try it out for a night. She gave me the key (amazing, given their strict rules). 

That night I ate dinner at my kitchen island listening to the sounds below (they started early evening and increased until about one or two AM), now with some detachment instead of the usual trepidation about the night ahead. I had certainly fueled his anger by telling the manager (who required a meeting with him), not to mention the call to police. But why did this start in the first place?

I did the dishes and began getting my things together. I remember that I had an inflatable mattress. It may have been for the bathtub experiment.

Sneaking out, while he was on the usual rampage, was incredibly satisfying.

I quietly opened the door and tiptoed along the outside walkway, staying close to the wall in case he would come out of his apartment and see me from below. I arranged my alarm clock, book, and blanket with huge relief.

Tony eventually found out that I moved next door. I heard thumps in my dining room coming from the direction of this apartment. He was just saying good bye, I'm sure. I think that he also called me from what sounded like a bar. There was no one on the other end, just bar sounds.

I guess I was Tony's captive audience and my escape frustrated him. There are sounds all around me at night here at Flat Horizonte, but I have my ear buds -- not that they would have helped much at the time. Tchau, Tony.