Problem Solved

Last week my husband and I were on vacation in Grand Cayman. We were having a wonderful time relaxing in the sunshine by day and enjoying the quiet of star studded nights. Until the people next door arrived. There we were having a glass of wine on the dock at sunset when a cargo van pulled up in the neighboring driveway. We watched in horror as the house filled with young men–college kids, we later found out. Within minutes the stereo was booming, “What is that?” I said. “Yela Wolf,” my husband told me. “Yellow Wolf?” I said. “No, Yela Wolf.” With that the whooping began. We had no idea that people still whooped, wasn’t that an eighties trend? Then the drinking games started; a whistle blow for every shot. As if some sort of mating call had been sent, kayaks overflowing with young women began to arrive at their dock, answering their whoops. The women immediately had drinks in hand and were queuing up for the game.  We had to do something.

My husband and I walked over to the neighbor’s dressed in our under armor. The kids were gathered around the pool, drinking. Heads turned and the whooping stopped as we stepped toward the pool. We removed our Depends and dentures and threw them into the pool. They retreated into the house. We then went back to our house and cranked up the Marantz receiver and blared our Bose 901’s. We played John Denver ‘Thank God I’m a Country Boy’, and sang harmony. The Carpenters followed with, ‘We’ve Only Just Begun’.  We had them retching. Then we went in for the kill. We blared Lobo, ‘Me and You and a Dog named Boo’. The last we saw of them, the van was pulling out of the driveway.

We saw, we conquered, we kicked their ass!

16 thoughts on “Problem Solved

  1. I wasn’t expecting that ending to your problem at Grand Cayman. I cringed, though, to think of the van full of college men pulling up next door. A nightmare no doubt. A vacation ruined. I used to be one of those college savages, but even then I like to think I was more respectful than the ones you dealt with. But what a memorable way to blast them out of the area.

  2. Wonderful of you to strike these blows against the minions of that newborning putrid empire. I would have loved to do similar on occasions. Have barked like a dog back at similar neighbours and imitated a bear. One time when we ended up having to move house. Of course, you were on vacation so had the elbow room to say fug you, baby. And that you did. Amen!

  3. I’m surprised at some of the comments this is getting (and your responses, to an extent). I find it hard to root for the husband and wife when they’re immediately horrified by the sight of the college kids–a classic “there goes the neighbourhood” moment–and later when they make no effort whatsoever to just talk to them as they would with any other human being. Reading the story, I thought that was kind of a fun twist: an elderly couple who turn out to be no better than their party animal neighbours. Reading the comments, I get the impression it was more of a straightforward jab at an already demonised group. Very disappointing.

    • WOW! This blog really hit a nerve. First of all, I am a writer and I write satire. This is satire. And highly exaggerated. I am not elderly, nor do I have dentures or wear depends. Nor did I throw said items into the pool. We did in fact talk to the kids and they apologized only to start it up again the next day. It was like re-visiting Woodstock. In the end the management took care of the noise-making kids. I did however think they deserved a blog. Please remember when you read my blogs they are meant to entertain!

      • I gathered this wasn’t something that actually happened in this fashion, and I quite enjoyed the blog up until I got to the comments. That’s what’s hit a nerve. The whole “this new generation thinks they own the world” attitude doesn’t do anybody any favours. It may be satire, but if I’d written this I’d be pretty uncomfortable with the response it’s generating.

  4. I remember being in the bathroom of a motel in the Ozarks one morning. The people next door partied long and hard the night before and I could hear one of them barfing. I loudly said, “Serves you right.”

  5. The thing to do with a stubborn rabble is to beat them with a sack of sweet Valencia oranges. It won’t leave a bruise, and it’ll show em who’s boss. No doubt about it! Bing Crosby taught me that, and it’s a lesson I’ve carried with me all my life!

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