Oh, wait, I forgot THAT story. Prior to the prostitution complex, we were living in Nashville at a complex which was about the same quality, though a bit smaller (still large though). We were on the front corner of the building, top floor of two story. There was a central stairway with two additional doors at the top of the stairway for the rear apartments, while we had to walk up the stairs and around the corner to reach our door.
Anyway, the woman in the upstairs apartment which was actually adjacent to ours on the rear of the building was a whack job. For the first few months, she was perfectly normal -- said hello and kept to herself. She was probably about mid-30s, slim but not very attractive (that comes into play here in a second). At some point, we think she stopped taking her meds.
The first thing we noticed is that she started camping out at the front of the building at the base of the stairway, where there were two broad stairs that led to the bottom floor, if you want to call it that. She started just smoking down there, but soon she started bringing candles and a radio. One of the downstairs apartments have about a dozen Hispanic immigrant workers living in it, and she apparently started inviting some of the guys to sit down there with her. That didn't last too long because I think they figured out that there was something wrong with her so she started just sitting there alone. She had a somewhat "dreamy" or spacey look to her and often ignored me. My wife (GF at the time) said that the woman was fairly hostile to her.
Well, we also started hearing loud music from her apartment as well as other sounds that we couldn't identify (thumping not music related, laughing, constantly barking dog). Finally, we went to the management and complained about the strange behavior, and they said they would look into it. That's when things really got interesting.
Apparently either they told her we complained, or she just guessed that it was us because a day or so later, I walked by her little perch on the ground floor and up to the apartment. When I opened the door, she screamed at the top of her lungs, "A$$HOLE!". I laughed and shut the door. I called my wife and let her know to be careful when she came home if psycho was out on watch.
A few days later, apparently some more people complained, and two of the management folks came out (there were three management reps who worked there -- two SMOKING HOT girls who went to our gym, and this one guy, the guy went on this expedition). The guy was holding a piece of paper which I deduced was an eviction notice. They gave it to her and left. Pyscho hose beast runs out of her apartment in her bathrobe and starts banging on the doors of the neighbors downstairs, babbling something that I can't remember. Finally, she retired to her cave.
The next day, two sad looking adults came and picked up their daughter. So ends the psycho neighbor saga. I hope she got back on her meds.
