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When I moved to Adelaide I lived out of my car and in backpackers for two months, the first place was more of a crackpackers but hey, that was part of the journey. The second place was good, clean & had a sense of community about it, but I was desperate for my own space. Looking back now I wish I took a little more time to experience South Australia, my adventure down there became short lived as I started to question it being the wrong move. Within six months I was coming back to Brisbane for more opportunities, an epiphany, and Adelaide not really giving me what I thought it would. I am Adelaide born.
Finally I found a space, a small loft styled, warehouse, townhouse unit in Underdale (West of Adelaide’s centre). I now had a job, and my own place, things were great. But on the first weekend of me staying at this place I found out that my neighbours loved to party. At one am on a Sunday morning I wake up to heavy loud music, laughs, and loud talking right next to my ear. “Fuck me” I thought. Recently I had stopped partying & going out, it was not fun anymore, I was on a path of becoming healthy, fulfilled and living for more then the weekend. After about twenty minutes of trying to sleep I went and knocked on the door to ask them to turn the music down, they said they would, but didn’t. When I went back the second time I was told that there was soundproofing in the walls, and that the music had been turned down, none of which was true; the owner even offered me to come in & party, some part of me now wishes that I went over and partied, but something in that moment was also telling me that was a bad idea. So, the music was not turned down & I struggled myself to sleep for an hour. The week goes by as normal we both just get on with our lives.
The following weekend I decided to make some bacon & pancakes for breakfast to celebrate my small achievements (new job, new house, new city, new beginning), but my neighbours had also been planning another party; I knew this because without even trying I could hear their conversations echo through our wall. Saturday night comes around and I wake to loud music, loud laughs, loud talking again. This time I covered my ears with my pillow and struggled to sleep.
At around six/ seven am when I woke, I prepared the ingredients for my gourmet meal, and moved my UEboom speaker to the stairway (A chamber like hall, directly connected to our consolidating walls that would make the sound even louder for my enjoyment). I turned everything to full volume and played my favourite Falling In Reverse Track “Good Girls, Bad Guys”. “WHAT THE FUCK”, “WHERE THE FUCK” “FUCK ME!” “TURN IT DOWN” “FUCK OFF!” “HAHAHAHAHA” “THIS GUY” were some of words that I heard coming from the other side of the wall.
I played an assortment of loud, heavy music for about two hours or so with no disruption. From that day forward there was no more parties until my last weekend in Adelaide. Again being a little shit, because if we are in a semi industrial area, there are no sound restrictions. I am allowed to play music as loud as I want at seven am on a Sunday morning.
That place gave me some eery senses, something was not right, I was not alone, there was supernatural experiences, and constant feelings that someone had been in there when I was not home. There is a lot of details missing from this story, things that are best left unsaid. If you know, you know. Looking back now I wish that I had made a better attempt at getting to know them. But that is just not the way life went. I probably would have a lot more Bad Boy Lexx stories to tell as well.
But that is it. I woke my neighbours at seven am on a Sunday morning while they were hungover & scattered.
Thank you for reading,
L. Soule.
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