It's a beautiful day in the
neighborhood.
A beautiful day for a neighbor.
But I don't know mine.
Do you know your neighbors? I live in a 15 story apartment building so you would think I would know at least one person living in the building. You would think.
Unfortunately I only know the door men. Sure there are people I have spoken to and wave at but I don't know their names. I would never borrow a cup of sugar if I ever decided to bake something. The closest neighbors I know live ten blocks south. Which is probably about sixty thousand people away. The two of them happen to live in the same building so I am obligated to travel south where I meet them for after work beverages a couple days a week. Drinks are more fun than baking anyway.
We call ourselves "The Lodge". Every now and then someone will send me a text that says "Lodge meeting tonight." So I know that happy hour is on and no less then three of us will be imbibing 2 for 1 drinks at our favorite local spot. It's a shitty bar with dirty bathrooms, a hundred dirty bras hanging from the ceiling, and the awesome bartender Mike. I have a pretend crush on Mike because he plays Rat Pack music every time I'm there even though it probably pisses off the other
clientele. That's all it takes to win me over.
My official Lodge title is Vice President of Marketing and Customer Relations. Which means nothing. Our president is The Vin Man who looks like he is in his early thirties but is actually forty five. He has played guitar and written music for some major stars as well as touring each year on one of those majorly popular after the reality TV show is over tours of the country. But it would be rude for me to share details. He has unusual taste in women and usually cat calls the ladies that walk by while standing out front smoking. He has lived in this
neighborhood for years and knows all that weirdos that drop in like the guy in the suite with the
pompadour hair who is always looking for weed and the little old mousy woman under five feet tall who only drinks white wine and coughs a lot.
Our VP is Frederick the funny man. He is in his thirties and assistant manages a huge building somewhere downtown where people with Nobel Prizes and such keep their offices. That is just his day job. He is an actor that has been in many national musical tours like Singing In The Rain. Frederick has been a friend of mine for years but for the first couple we were always so drunk when we got together we kept forgetting each other. That was back when brunching was an all day booze fest.
These are my neighbors and my friends. They are far stranger then I have mentioned here because nobody has that kind of time to write this stuff out. Then again, of course they are strange if they hang out with me! So do you know your neighbors? Why? How? Should I bother to meet someone in my building? It just seems so sad that if all my bottle openers broke I would have to take the elevator all the way downstairs and walk the ten feet to the deli to buy a new one. Or I could ask the doorman.
