Last night, perhaps an hour after I went to sleep, someone out in the hall was pounding on a door, shouting through it angrily. The rhythms of the voice didn’t sound like a lover’s quarrel, and nor like an angry drunk. More like a mother yelling at her kids, or maybe an older sibling yelling at youngers.
An hour or so later, it happened again.
At 2:30 in the morning, it happened again.
I got up, stuck my head out of my door, and said, “That’s three times in one evening. I’m calling the cops.”
The woman looked alarmed and said quietly, “There’s no need for the cops.”
No more noise.
I’ve never in my life threatened to call the police over hotel noise. And quite properly, what I should have done was call the front desk. But I didn’t know which room (or rooms) were involved. All I knew was that there was a recurring racket from someone whose personal worldview saw no problems in waking up an entire hallway full of sleeping people in pursuit of their issues.
I really, truly don’t get people.