metrocake

Living in a Manhattan apartment building is like living in a giant college dorm — without the bad sex and stale beer smell. (Well, most nights, anyway.)

In our building, R and I live at the very end of the hallway. Our elevator and laundry room are in the center of the hall, and there’s an apartment directly across from them. I’ve never envied the occupants of that apartment, since I’m sure you can hear the folks in the elevator and people doing their laundry all the time.

This morning, while waiting for the elevator, I realized there’s another reason I don’t envy them…I could hear the occupants’ conversation very clearly through the apartment door. And then, out of nowhere, someone singing the girl’s part of “Paradise by the Dashboard Light.”

Badly.

While I debated on the ethics of mining this comedy gold — “Hey, can my cell phone record sound as well as video?” — the elevator arrived and saved me from myself. So all I can say is this: I really, really hope those folks get something off their rent, and a soundproof door is in their future.