Dear New Upstairs Neighbor in 14-A,

Already it has been two months since you have moved into our lovely apartment complex, Greenwood Hills, and I still have never met you. I feel it is largely a failure on my part that we have not been properly introduced. I have tried to make your acquaintance on several occasions, though all at the wrong times, I guess.

I inquired about you briefly to the management over at 16-C (I hope you don’t find me too intrusive), and all they told me was that there was “just another one of them, you know.” living there. I was too embarrassed to admit that I didn’t know exactly what “one of them” is, but I assumed that you too must also be a student at the university, like myself.

I must admit that this has really piqued my curiosity and made me much more anxious to see you. I checked the name badge on your mailbox (please excuse my intrusiveness once again) and learned that your name is “I. M. Stoner.”

A very interesting name, Mr. Stoner. I have already let my imagination wander too much, but from what I have heard and seen from my small apartment below yours, I have begun to form a very vivid picture of who you might be.

I know for sure that you must not live alone. Perhaps you have a small family of two or three other Stoners or perhaps several roommates. As I said, I have tried to introduce myself directly but each time I do something strange happens.

You see, Mr. Stoner, each time I would come to your door, even from the hallway, I could hear quite a riotous menagerie of laughing and singing happy people. When I knocked on the door, however, the confabulation ceased and the lights went out amidst a flurry of hushes.

Of course, I felt bad that I ended the gabfest, and I quickly retreated back downstairs to my own abode. After further thought, I came to the conclusions that, housed directly above me must be, and could only be, a large group of international students.

Upon this revelation, I was both relieved and more excited. This also must explain why you all stay up during the night and fall silent during the day. You have not yet accustomed yourselves to the change in hours from your homeland. Now that I know that you must be foreigners from some exotic locale, I can better explain some other recent phenomena.

For instance, I was at first very surprised by your frequent (almost hourly, it seems) visitors, and, more specifically, their dress. Much of their garb seemed to be made of loosely fitting pants and shirts. The women are often in skirts, the men usually with beards, and both with vast arrays of beads, elaborately made sandals (even in the coldest of weather), and what I would normally call “unkempt” hair.

Then there was the strange smell that seemed to creep in through my vents after you moved in. This building does allow smoking, but this smell seemed different, richer, more pungent. The previous occupants of 14-A had been smokers, and I had grown quite used to the smell. But this smell was different, slightly intoxicating. Perhaps it is incense brought from a distant village you know as home.

Something else I noticed was your seemingly intense love for rock music, namely Pink Floyd. Don’t get me wrong, I love “Wish You Were Here” and “Comfortably Numb” as much as the next fellow, it just surprised me that someone could listen to only those two songs for twelve hours.

Of course, I now understand that you must have been listening to those songs over and over and over again in order to gain a better understanding of our language. A very novel idea, indeed. Already I have begun practicing my Spanish with this in mind by listening over and over again to the smash hit “Macarena.” I think I see improvement already.

All of this has only made me more anxious to meet you. I would love to learn what it is you are studying at the university. I can only assume that it is some sort of science, judging from the elaborate experiment you seemed to have rigged up last Saturday night on your patio above mine. I’m an English major, so I had no idea what to make of the intricate system of smoke-filled tubes, frothing water and hoses. You must be very smart indeed.

If, by the time you get this, we have not yet met Mr. Stoner, please feel free to stop by anytime and introduce yourself.

I have classes during the day, of course, and do work some evenings, but I am always home on the weekends, usually playing Dungeons and Dragons on the Internet.

Oh, and please feel free to address me as everyone else does in the building — as “Narc.” I am not entirely sure why they have so affectionately chosen this title for me, but it has stuck nonetheless, and it makes me feel even more at home.

Once more, welcome to Greenwood Hills!

Sincerely,

P. L. O’Bryan

Patrick O’Bryan is a senior in English from Indianola.