June 22, 2005

• The Neighbor from Hell, part II: The Beergoggles Connection

  
  

  Well, I found out what’s wrong with the guy next door:  he’s a drunk.  When he was making the noise written up in my last blog, he was on the third day of a five-day binge.  I found this out from my landlord, who also told me about the Beergoggles connection.  It seems the guy had been sober for like seven years.  A local drunk and ne’er do well, Darryl by name, aka Beergoggles, evidently convinced the guy to take a drink, and he was off and running.

  
  

  He has been too busy killing off brain cells to take care of his dog, so I called Animal Control, but the critter was nowhere around when the guy came by, and the dude was too drunk to answer his door.  I was advised to photograph the dog running loose as documentation before any further action can be taken.

  
  

  The climax came last night.  Around nine, he made an appearence on his porch in his underwear, blinking stupidly, wandered back inside, and then and the theme from Star Wars started blasting out of his window.  Then stopped.  Then started again, a few minutes later.  The landlord had advised me, next time he started playing music or TV too loud, to just go in and unplug the thing, and and agreed that maybe I should beat up the guy in the process, but I was not real comfortable with that, so I called the police and requested that the troopers stop by and make a welfare check–that is, see if the dude is alive, or what–not give him a handout.  Anyway, the troopers get there, determine that he is in fact dangerously intoxicated, and called the EMTs.  Ambulance came, and carted his worthless ass off on a gurney.  Quiet reigned again.  A neighbor woman–nice enough, but not the sharpest knife in the drawer–volunteered to care for the dog.  This morning, it was still wandering around loose–the dog, not the woman.

  
  

  Best of all–when the drunk gets out of hospital, he is going to jail. It seems that he had stolen some of the booze he had been drinking.

  
  

  BTW–in case you are wondering about the “Beergoggles” thing–Kathy christened him thus last summer.  She was at my stand, and he came lurching over, so drunk he could barely stand upright, and started putting moves on her.  She was more amused than offended, I think, pointing out that she was old enough to be his mother, and that he was obviously looking at the world through beer goggles–hence the name.

  
  

  Oh, and this morning the landlord told me that he has had enough of Beergoggles, and is going to get rid of him.

  • 2:40 pm
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