Being the Loud Upstairs Neighbor 

 In February 2020, I sat down with my parents and anxiously told them, “I’m moving to New York City.” More specifically – Astoria, Queens. I could no longer handle my two plus hour commute each way, 5 days a week from Long Island. It was killing me. Besides… I wanted to live in NYC at some point in my life, and at 25 I decided there was no better time.  My friend also decided it was the right moment for her to move out on her own, so we started apartment shopping. We found the perfect place (or so we thought). It was the first floor of a split-family home. Very non-apartment-building-like, and thus, an easy transition for a first move. Sold.  We moved in March 15, 2020. Yup. One day before New York City shut down for quarantine.  March 16th was the beginning of our work from home period, which was supposed to only last two weeks. Remember that? Two years later and I’m still working from home. Not surprisingly, our loud upstairs neighbors were also working from home. One day my roommate and I were sitting on the couch working since we didn’t have a kitchen table or desks just yet, and we started to hear a TON of stomping and … counting? .. singing? What the hell is going on up there? It happened every day going forward. We eventually began recognizing the times she would start, and we came to the conclusion that she was teaching some sort of class to young children based on the singing and counting. We come to find out our hunch was correct, and that we live below a dance teacher who is teaching her classes via Zoom.  A DANCE TEACHER. WORKING FROM HOME.   You would think one would be respectful of their downstairs neighbors who they know are also working from home every single day. Maybe try and avoid stomping and jumping and yelling? No, not this girl. She went all out, every. single. day.  Her daily performance was an absolute nightmare that just added to the madness the pandemic was creating. Aside from teaching kids how to drive their neighbors and families insane while they stomp through their floors, she was a big fan of phone conversations. Very loud phone conversations.  She also loved rearranging her furniture and slamming the drawers shut at all hours. Early morning or late nights. You name it. This woman was the epitome of what you think of when you conjure an image of, “annoying upstairs neighbor”.  Did you ever see that comedic video of people bowling and throwing chains at the floor in their apartment for no reason? Yeah, that was 100% based off of our neighbor. I mean I can only assume anyway, but I’m probably right. Our landlords would regularly ask if our upstairs neighbor's dog bothered us at all, you know, noise wise. Are they kidding?  The dog was an absolute angel compared to its human. In fact, it was refreshing to hear a cute little bark every so often instead of the couch being dragged all over the place as Twinkle Toes preps for her dance class, or screams and cackles on FaceTime with her friends. Fast forward to July 2021, my roommate and I decided it was time to move. Not only because of the neighbors above us, but that was definitely not a selling point of staying in our original apartment.  We moved into another split-family house, but this time we moved onto the second floor.  We became the upstairs neighbors.  We met our new downstairs neighbors within the first week of moving in, and they were the nicest people ever. They told us that the landlord had just recently redone the floors in our apartment, so there is a good sound barrier between us. They told us not to worry about noise. “Be loud, have parties, the girls before you were total party-ers”.  As much as I appreciated that, I could not live without the constant worry that I was being too loud. I blame the dance teacher. I never wanted to be that loud, obnoxious, person. Every time I drop something I wince. Every time I need something in the pantry I keep the door open a smidge just in case I need something else right away, you know, to avoid opening and closing doors which might get loud. I slide down the hall in my socks instead of stepping.I sit down most of the day (primarily for work but still).I avoid wearing shoes in the house. I tip-toe up the steps no matter what time I am coming or going.I do everything I can to not be that typical upstairs neighbor.  Now that it’s been six months living on the second floor the above actions have become very natural. I do all of these things almost without thinking about them. It dawned on me recently when thinking about my old neighbors that it is NOT difficult to be respectful to your neighbors.  Accidents happen, sure. I drop shit all the time because I am beyond clumsy, but at least I’m trying to be mindful.  To wrap this up, if you are the upstairs neighbor, be mindful. Your neighbors down under will thank you for it. If you chose to just be disrespectful, quite honestly, they’ll probably hate your fucking guts.