Saturday, May 7, 2011

A whole new level of weird. . .

Well, I have recently came across a couple blogs ("Hi Virginia, Hi Bet!") about strange and somewhat sinister neighbors, I decided to throw in my very own hair-raising saga of my "extraordinary" neighbor.
     
     Let's start with a vivid depiction of my humble abode.  . .  My current apartment is probably a whopping 700 square feet, mainly composed of a living room. The best part of the living room is the huge double sliding doors out to my deck. (They ARE unusually massive, strangely so really) My deck gives way to a glorious view. . . of a concrete parking lot and other brownstones. Anyway, early last winter when gazing out my window I noticed a strange fellow wearing only a t-shirt, jeans and socks getting into his van. This struck me as odd mainly because of the fact the temperature was below zero, and the ground covered with snow. I'm not particularly observant of my fellow neighbors, and though I'm sure this had been his parking spot for the whole time I've lived here, I never even noticed it. He then proceeded to wipe off a little spot on his windshield, and then just sit in his van. I could see his face peering at me through the windshield and immediately I was unnerved. For one thing, being oblivious to the outside world, I wander around my apartment in who knows what some days. Especially at night after Tuckers asleep and I can schlep around in comfy clothes i.e little shorts and a bra. So I obviously made a note to self . . ."Watch what you wear, woman!"
      
           Do you ever notice how when you buy a new car you all of a sudden see the same car EVERYWHERE? And you kind of wonder, "Where were all those cars hiding when I bought this??" When in reality, it's just that we are more aware and on the lookout for it, so we notice what we would never otherwise thought twice about. Anyway. . .that's what this was like. But the car was "him." It seemed that every time I passed my window (which was pretty frequently considering I live in a box) there he was, staring in my apt while sitting in his van. After a few weeks, it was almost "normal". . . and I just became a little more apt to close the blinds at all times not look out the window for fear of dreaded uncomfortable eye contact.
        
          Then one day, (probably a month after my first sighting) there's a "knock" "knock" on my door. Considering my apartment has controlled access, and I would have to buzz a non-tenant in, I wondered who this could be. Open the door and (surprise, surprise) there stands the peeper from the van. He looks nervous, sweaty, shifty and. . . high. I look at him, and he thrusts this picture into my hands. "I drew a picture of you," says he. Being as polite as possible I take it, thank him, and awkwardly close the door as fast as I can.
                                             Here is the picture. . . note the creepy eye/face "watching" me. Kinda odd.

Then. . . ten minutes later, comes another knock on the door. Of course, it was him again. This time he's a little bolder, still sweaty but less nervous. He introduces himself: "Ronnie Rodgers, Secret Service." And literally barges into my apartment and begins to talk. . .and talk. . .and talk. He tells his tale of being in the "C.I.A" and going to Vietnam and goes back and forth telling different stories, most of them not even remotely believable.  It's obvious to me that this man is experiencing a "manic" episode, characterized by his fast-paced manner of talking and his behavior ranging from one extreme to another.
Well, I think I received 5 visits from him that day. Thus beginning the Ronnie Rodgers saga.
              During the few couple weeks these visits became more and more frequent. Often he would knock on my door over 10 times a day (literally!). He would bring strange relics ( more pictures he'd drawn, shiny fake gems for Tucker, a polo shirt with the Secret Service logo on it, a picture of a limo with "Ronald Reagan" in it which he signed in front of me, a pair of Presidential cuff links. . . the list goes on) He left these items in front of my door if I refused to answer, and often times would stand at my door for over 10 minutes hollering my name. During this period I contacted my apartment manager who seemed to think he was harmless, and bought into his C.I.A/war stories and hence felt sorry for him. Somehow the level of the harassment I was experiencing escaped her.
                                         Here's a pic of him, just so you can visualize this whole thing
Yes, this picture is one of the many things he left at my door. I haven't even mentioned the best part. . . this man reeks of paint thinner. Not in the "I'm an artist, smell my scent" manner, but in the "I huff and puff and blow my brains aways" kind of way. When he was "high" (which was most of the time) his behavior would be so erratic, you often times couldn't comprehend what he was saying. He would sometimes seem angry, then sad. He would express his anxiety about the "helicopters" that were flying overhead, the sirens in the distance, ect. I understand that these are things that trigger PTSD, however I am fairly certain the chemicals destroying his brain were just as much to blame, if not more.
Honestly, my feelings towards him ranged from sympathetic, to fearful. I never knew quite what to think. One picture he drew in particular, reiterated my feelings of fear. This man is dangerous.
                                                       Here is the picture. . .
                                          Here is a close-up of the bookshelf in the pic. . . note the title of the 2nd book.

So one day, Ronnie comes over in the a.m, just messed up out of his mind. He is wearing a glow stick necklace, has huge earphones on (not attached to anything) a dirty t-shirt/jeans, holding a rag soaked in paint thinner to his face and he can barely speak. All he can manage is a mumble. It is apparent the man has lost whatever little brains he had left. He won't stop knocking on my door and I refuse to answer after the initial time. This stems my first call to the local police department. They tell me he has a decade long history of inhalant abuse. They come and do a "well-person check" on him. AND THEY LET HIM GO. They come to my apartment, tell me yes it's obvious that he is messed up, yada yada yada. But since it isn't ILLEGAL they can't do anything unless THEY physically see him huffing. Their advice to me? "Move. This isn't a good neighborhood" Wow. Anyway, to make a long story short I called the police on him 3 more times for similar behavior. Fact of the matter is, he was stalking me and harassing me and I was beyond the point of annoyance. I had no idea what he was going to do next, he was so erratic. I wasn't the only one in the building, as others had complained also.

So,  It took about 4 months of  my privacy being repeatedly invaded and a long conversation with the owner of the apartment building, but he was evicted and now I am Ronnie-free. Woot woot!!
                                                              ThE EnD

7 comments:

  1. Whoa. I think you definitely win Creepiest Neighbor Award. That's insane! Goodness. I am so happy this ended with him being evicted. Yikes.

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  2. Okay, you definitely win the Creepy Neighbor Award contest. That book in the bookcase in the picture is definitely enough to have a restraining order signed! I hope you never see the dude again!

    The only good thing about it is that you wrote a very interesting blog post! :-)

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  3. Verity's comment hadn't posted when I read this, but apparently it's unanimous that you win! :-)

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  4. I can't understand why, if this man had a history of inhalant abuse, the police couldn't charge him with it when he stinks of it and has a rag of it with him. And that book on the bookcase just gives me the creeps. Aren't you guys getting a new place? I hope so. At least he didn't do anything worse than he did. Last night, right before I got in bed, I was not fully clothed, standing in my room and I looked out the front window (in the living room) and the neighbor across the street seriously looked like he was just sitting there watching me. I moved pretty quickly. :-) I just never think about the fact that people can just see right into our room! I am so going to get curtains!

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  5. Yikes yikes yikes!!! Oh my WORD, Connie!! Yeah, my neighbor is bad, but not THAT bad. I would have been freaked out of my mind! It's really frustrating that it seems like legally, there's nothing we can do until the neighbor breaks in and rapes you, basically. But at the same time I wonder if it's just people not wanting to actually do something. Like, the cops didn't really feel like filling out the paperwork that day for an arrest for harassment and disturbing the peace. I don't know. But I'm glad for you that he's gone!!

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  6. Oh Bethaney yes you need to get curtains- you just never know!! And yes all, I am sooo glad he finally got evicted. Honestly this wasn't even the half of it. . .I should have posted some of the other pictures he drew and gave when he was high. One time, he barged into my place and with a canvas and started drawing me. He was so messed up he kept groaning and mumbling and saying "Oh yeah"- it was so crazy. The picture was basically scribbles with female anatomy if you get my drift. Luckily Chris was there at the time. Then after one of the cop calls he came over- we opened the door after the 7th time he knocked on it (7 dif times of us not answering) he had this spay bottle of paint thinner and upon opening the door he proceeded to start spraying it in my house and wouldn't stop. Told him in a pretty severe manner to get out of the house and get some help. Ugh. The list goes on. But ya, the cops wouldn't really do anything. I guess Ronnie would call the police himself and harass the dispatcher, talking all this nonsense. In retrospect I should have gone down to the station myself and filed a restraining order, I just really thought he needed psychiatric help more so than anything.

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  7. The police were called numerous times. The fact that he harassed you didn't "escape" me. He harassed me and my family and everyone else. My hands were tied as the manager. The owner and my boss would not listen to me or do anything about this. I had no power in this situation.

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