It all started in September when Amanda walked into the study room in our apartment to find Mari sitting at her desk, staring in fear up at the ceiling. "Hey, can I use some of that milk in the fridge?" she asked.
She was met with an upheld hand via "Stop! In the Name of Love".
"Um...what's going o--"
"Shh!" Mari pointed to the ceiling.
She must have thought Mari was losing it.
And then they heard It. Mari looked at Amanda. Amanda looked at Mari. Another groan sounded from the apartment above them, accompanied by other assorted, um, rhythmic sounds.
"Is that.........?" Amanda asked.
Mari nodded. "It's been going on for awhile."
Oh yes, we had those kind of people upstairs. In the interest of keeping this blog PG-rated, we shall refer to them as Rabbit People. If you don't understand that, then go ask Mom and Dad.
It was at this point in our first experience with the Rabbit People that Taryn and I returned from orchestra to the apartment, unaware of what would meet us. Amanda ran from the study room, through the kitchen, and to the living room in whence we stood, yelling, "You'll never guess what we heard today!" Mari followed her at a slower pace, looking at once eeked and amused. When they relayed the story to us, we found it unendingly amusing. And it was--it's a pretty normal college experience, I suppose. Not one you find everyday in your average Evangelical Christian college, but a college experience nonetheless.
The novelty wore off when I realized, upon studying for my weekly Greek quiz every Monday at 10am that the Rabbit People had a schedule. And it pretty much revolved around my study times. We're pretty patient people in our apartment, but when we got back from Christmas Break and were greeted to the same, er, situation, it was more than we could handle. Amanda, Mari and I sat in Mari's and my room, screaming "WE CAN HEAR YOU!!!!!!!" during lulls in the action and wishing we had a broom so we could hit the ceiling. It was especially cruel a week later, when we had the Rabbit People over one half of the apartment competing with the guy above us on the other half who'd just broken up with his longtime girlfriend and sat in his living room playing sad songs on his guitar all day. Ecstasy (supposed) on one side and sorrow on the other. C'est la vie. That's the college life I suppose.
My sanity threshold was hit this afternoon when I, trying to remember everything I'd just studied about niche agriculture, was putting my life together to head to my Environmental Science test. Unraveling the blue Pashmina I bought at Covent Garden in London from my bookshelf, I stuffed it in my bag for good luck and headed toward my bedroom door when I heard It again. "Are they seriously doing it again?" I yelled to Taryn, who was in the study room. "Yes. And it's much worse in here." She didn't even sound surprised. Ugh. If I'd been heading to anatomy or maybe even an upper level psychology class about Freud maybe it would have been applicable. As it stood, I ended up having a flashback in the middle of a question on desertification of sub-Saharan Africa and laughing through part of my test.
Wish my apartment luck on Valentine's Day.