So far my apartment building has been fairly satisfactory. There's an in-house laundry room, which is convenient, and for the most part things are quiet and efficient. Every now and then my neighbors across the hall do some serious blazing and my apartment smells like skunkweed during those times, but at least it's not cheap incense.
But I guess any large multi-apartment complex is going to have at least some crazies.
There's a wizened 60-something woman who told me, not long after I moved in, that she lived in this apartment building her entire life. That's difficult for someone like me - who has averaged one move every two years since I was 18 - to imagine. She seemed a little odd then, but I didn't officially classify her as crazy in my mind.
Until today. I'm coming home from work and I'm waiting for the elevator. Wizened lady gets out. I enter elevator. I turn around to press the button for my floor and I notice wizened lady is holding the elevator door open. I stared at her for a moment wondering what the hell she was doing - she glared at me.
WL: What do you mean "what?" How about a thank you?
Me: For what?
WL: For holding the elevator open for you!
She finally let go of the elevator door after I told her to.
But the best crazy is the crazy teabagger on the first floor. I only know about this one because I sometimes take the stairs instead of the elevator in the morning and the teabagger's door is facing the stairway exit. There is an ever-changing exhibition of crazy on the teabagger's door. It's easier to show a picture than describe it:
Click here to see a larger image for all the teabaggy goodness.