Every night, exactly at two o’clock in the morning, my young neighbor upstairs would play rock music at full volume while my son and I slept. In response, I bought a violin, and my “talented” child started practicing exactly at eight in the morning — right when the neighbor was just falling asleep 🫣☹️
At two in the morning, I woke up to strange noises in the apartment. First, there was a low humming sound, like a train passing far away. Then the bass joined in, and everything turned into vibrations that made the walls shake and the dishes in the cupboard rattle. The music didn’t just seem to play; it seemed to literally press down from above.
The neighbor was a creative person. His creativity consisted of listening to heavy rock for hours, usually at night, considering it a normal way to relax. He especially liked to play music at hours when normal people were already asleep.
I am a calm, non-confrontational person. I work as an accountant, live with my seven-year-old son, and dream of the simplest things — peace and sleep without being woken up in the middle of the night. But when you suddenly jump in bed because it feels like someone is screaming directly in your ear through the ceiling, calm quickly disappears.
The first time, I couldn’t take it anymore and went upstairs to the neighbor at night. In a robe and slippers, tired and angry. When the door opened, I saw a man of about thirty years old in front of me. The apartment smelled of smoke and the music was very loud.
— Listen, — I said, trying to speak normally. — It’s late, I have a child, and I have to get up early tomorrow. Could you turn it down, please?
— But I didn’t put it that loud, — he said, surprised. — It’s just a good sound.
— The walls are shaking, — I replied.
— Okay, I’ll try to turn it down, — he murmured and closed the door.
The silence lasted about ten minutes. Then it all started again as if our conversation had never happened.
— Are you even normal? — he croaked. — It’s morning!
— Good morning, — I replied calmly. — We’re doing music.
— My head is splitting!
— Strange, — I said. — Last night it didn’t bother you.
He looked at me, then at my son holding the violin.
— Are you doing this on purpose?
Every night, exactly at two a.m., my young neighbor upstairs would play rock music at full volume while my son and I slept. In response, I bought a violin, and my “talented” child began practicing exactly at eight in the morning.
— We’re developing talent, — I replied. — It’s important for the future. All by the law.
So we practiced every morning all week. The music from upstairs disappeared after just a few days. On Friday evening, the neighbor came down himself. He looked tired.
— Let’s make a deal, — he said. — I can’t take this anymore.
— I’m listening, — I replied.
I placed paper and pen on the table.
— After ten p.m. — complete silence.
— And what if we have guests?
— And if we have lessons on weekend mornings?
He was silent and nodded.
— Fine. After ten — silence.
— And the violin stays, — I added. — Just in case.
We agreed. And for six months now, there’s been no noise at night.
