Next door are having a party again. Only it sounds more like a sort of massacre. Every now and then they all shout together in unison and then there’s a thud that makes the walls shake.
Actually, I think it might be a drinking game. Someone’s just started making noises like a monkey. It’s three seconds between each scream and thud.
It sounds like there are thirty people in there! If the flat’s the same shape as mine, then that is not a lot of space for that many people to be making that much noise.
The guys are raising their voices in the way that only young intoxicated human males do. The ladies are using what you might call ‘Anglo-Saxon consonants’ - it’s all very unbecoming. Some R&B grime is burbling out of the stereo and seeping through the walls. I feel like I’m listening to the prelude to several hangovers.
It’s kind of funny how different we all are. I never went to house parties like that - I heard about them afterwards, sure, but somehow I didn’t ever want to go. I could never imagine what was fun about them - especially as I was trying to live to a set of principles that were at odds with the main reasons that made those parties so apparently enjoyable for others. That environment has never been for me.
A lot of people say that hangovers are caused by dehydration, which is exacerbated with ethanol. Something chemical happens anyhow. As Eminem blasts through these muffled walls and they all rap along to prove that they know the words, I wonder whether it’s a balance that’s worth it. Will the equation be different in the morning? It isn’t really my place to wonder that. We all get to make that call for ourselves.
What I need to decide is how to get to sleep, because I have a feeling that for the next hour or so, that will be very difficult. And I definitely don’t need to be grumpy, clutching a headache, or unkempt in the morning. That would just be too ironic.
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