My landlord recently posted a note in the lobby of my apartment building: “Dear tenants, It has been brought to my attention that residents have been drinking on the roof. The police received calls about residents throwing beer bottles at cars driving past. Please note that this is a violation of your lease. Any residents caught on the roof, or any residents whose guests are caught on the roof, will be evicted.”
Surprisingly, this note is not about me. Most notes posted in the building are about me, specifically the ones about tossing garbage bags out the window instead of walking them down to the dumpster, damaging the washing machines with rubber bathroom mats, and “accidentally” forgetting to sign your rent check before sliding it under the landlord’s door.
I’ve never gotten drunk on the roof, though. It’s actually a little upsetting that in two years of living here, I’ve never thought to do so. I’ve been drunk everywhere else: The laundry room, the hallways, the front stoop, and occasionally the unlocked basement room where the cable TV hookups are located, but I never made the effort to climb the 60-foot ladder up to the roof.
It’s certainly a commendable feat. This crappy apartment building is over 100 years old, and the rickety ladder that leads to the roof looks twice that age. It would take a talented acrobat to carry beer up that ladder, and even more skill to climb back down it while drunk. I’m actually a little jealous of their daring stunt.
With the rotten condition of this building, I’m afraid to wear shoes in my apartment for fear that the extra weight will send me crashing through the floor into the apartment of the angry Hispanic woman below. This building is a structural disaster. All the doorways in my apartment are cut crooked, and the floor itself slopes slightly to the East. The building is likely called “Chateaux Lexington” because it was actually built by drunks in the mid-18th century.
I think it’s slightly hypocritical that an apartment building with a wine-related name like “Chateaux” doesn’t allow drinking on the roof.
Our apartments don’t have balconies, and homeless people use the front sidewalk of the building as a toilet, so the roof is the only logical place to drink a cold one while enjoying a warm breeze. I’ve tried using the fire escape, but somehow homeless people have figured out how to pee on that as well, so there’s no real solution.
I think responsible people should be allowed to drink on the roof. I’m responsible. I’m a dignified, mature adult. Sure, I don’t have a job and spend most of my day playing video games, but I wouldn’t throw a bottle at a car. That sort of thing is reserved for the young, angry crowd of drinkers. I’ve graduated from that into the “almost 30 and depressed by life’s horrid routine” crowd of drinkers.
Besides, looking through my lease, I can’t find anything in it specifically prohibiting residents from drinking whiskey sours on the roof while throwing bottles at cars. I think my landlord is lying. There’s a few bits of pish posh about not loitering and a surprisingly strict section allowing the landlord to evict me if I make “any noise”, but nothing about the roof.
It’s a one page lease, and there’s not even a section on unsuitable conduct or inappropriate behavior. According to this lease, I could walk around the building nude, assaulting people with a garden rake and I wouldn’t be violating the terms. There’s not even anything about solicitation, so I could set up a card table in the lobby and sell Bibles or cans of soda. I could set up a toll booth and charge other residents to get to their mailboxes.
The lease makes a point to say we can’t have pets and can’t let significant others stay over more than 14 days in a row, but oddly says nothing about us housing a meth lab, running a child labor sweatshop, or using our entrepreneurial skills to start a brothel.
Also, the lease strictly states that any changes to the document must be presented to residents in writing with 30 days notice. If my landlord doesn’t want us to drink on the roof while committing felony acts of vandalism to passing automobiles, then her note technically doesn’t go into effect for another 15 days or so.
I wonder what’s up there on the roof. I mean, besides bird poop, puddles of rancid rainwater, and 100-year-old dried tar that emits poisonous chemicals. Maybe there’s treasure. It would explain why the landlord is so eager to keep us away from there. It’s a long shot, but in this economy, how can I not check the roof for treasure? How can anyone not check their respective roofs for treasure?
It’s settled. Come Monday when the landlord leaves for work, I’ll sneak up to the roof and search for pirate treasure. Or regular treasure. Or bottles of beer accidentally left behind by the previous miscreants. Good luck only comes to those who earn it, dear reader, and I’m happy to fall off a ladder and break my neck in the attempt.
Don’t make any sudden movements, or I will hurl. That’s how sick I am right now. My body wants to throw up, and all it needs is the slightest visual excitement to cause it. The Final Four is going on right now, but I’m watching golf instead, because it’s the only thing slow enough to keep my lunch in my stomach.