France vs. USA Part II, the Revenge

The story of our unfit-for-dogs former apartment continues!

On Sunday night our charming, sophisticated, anti-American neighbors started up again. At one the morning or a few minutes past, a banging sound commenced, followed by shouts of “stop!” The banging did not cease, however, but only became louder. The cries of “stop!” became accordingly loud and after ten minutes it was time to once again phone La Roche-sur-Yon’s Finest.

As two police cars pulled up, our downstairs neighbor (a quiet, unassuming student) came flying out of his window, crying and pleading with the police that he was afraid. The drunken louts were knocking at his door, pounding actually, with a HAMMER.

The, police, attempting to calm things down, instructed everyone to return to their homes and go to sleep. Everything was calm, they insisted. Except it wasn’t. Our quiet, downstairs neighbor wasn’t calm, Alex wasn’t calm, and I wasn’t calm. The drunken upstairs neighbor with the hammer and an open bottle of beer wasn’t calm, and the drunken downstairs neighbor, for whatever reason, was taking out his trash.

No arrests were going to be made, the police explained, because there wasn’t proof that any hammering was going on, even though the drunken upstairs neighbor had said instrument in his hand.

Finally, when it became clear that things were not calm and were not going to be calm, and when Alex broke down crying, arrests were made. We went inside and called our landlords, the Bessons (more on these useless fuckwads in a moment), and were greeted by their answering machine.

On Monday we found a new apartment, and we spent the next two nights with goddess-uebermother-angel-friend (and Nate Bowler's personal coiffeuse), Roselyne Beltran-Lopez. In addition to sparing us staying any more nights in our godforsaken, filthy, unhealthy, dark, dingy, smelly, sticky apartment, Roselyne lent us her car to move into our lovely new home, and is lending us her car for the duration of Nate Bowler’s mother-in-law’s visit. Nate Bowler, Alex Hidalgo, the NOML the NIML and McBone salute Roselyne Beltran Lopez and thank her for getting McBone co-captain and his wife through a difficult time.

Nate and Alex would also like to extend a hearty thank you to friends Matt Bartko and Julien Girard for housing and feeding us for two days so we could get to work during the week.

Finally, on Saturday, the day of the big move arrived. In Roselyne’s tiny Mercedes we managed to pack up our belongings and, in a few short trips, we were installed into our new, clean, almost paradisiacal home. That evening we were to meet the Besson’s, our aforementioned elderly, incompetent, senile, asshole landlords. After a brief inspection (aced with flying colors) we were ready to part ways. There remained only the small matter of our deposit. We would not be getting it, since we failed to give them a month’s notice. They, we reminded them, failed to protect us from our abominable, drunken, racist neighbors. They argued that they did all they could, posting notes in the hallway and issuing warnings. After a twenty minute long dispute, we parted ways. Alex and I are certain that we will not get the money back, but 350 Euros, while meaningful to us, is a small price to pay to break any association with our gruesome, predatory, neglectful, unwashed, disrespectful and, thank god, former landlords.

Now comfortably situated in our new home, we hope our remaining three months in La Roche-sur-Yon are as uneventful and lout-free as possible.

Drunken lowlifes, whether French or American, suck big time. And oblivious nincompoops are even worse.

Love,
nb