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I Wanted to Blow Up That Damn Helicopter (Then I Saw Why It Was There)
The noise drove me crazy, but the mission behind it grounded me.
“Shut Up, you fucking moron!” I let out an internal scream as I heard my neighbor turn up his chainsaw party in the middle of the night for the umpteenth time in the last 3 months.
“Who uses power tools at 2:30 AM?” I thought to myself. “Is that even legal in Germany?”
For the first ‘umpteen-minus-one’ occurrences, I had followed my usual routine — the one that I follow every time my fragile sleep is shattered by that piercing buzz— which is cursing that imaginary German man in his mid-40s who wants to build a new kitchen to charm his pretty young wife and blaming myself for not seeing a doctor for my sleep issues.
But that early morning on March 31st, when I heard that noise again, I said, “Enough is Enough,” and decided to track down and confront Otto, my (imaginary) 46-year-old rowdy neighbor with a pretty wife to impress.
As I exited my apartment building and reached the street, I looked around and saw no soul. I ran a scanning gaze through all the buildings around me and couldn’t spot a single window with lights on.
