Long Beach is a diverse city. Just blocks away, row upon row of peeling 1920’s craftsman houses, cafes, gangs, Cambodian restaurants, vintage shops, taquerias, seedy bars lined with career alcoholics, four star dining establishments and a freaking aquarium intermingle in an fusion of culture. Where we live by the beach, it’s not so dangerous. People rollerblade around and talk about sailboats. Sometimes at night, we’re woken up by our neighbor who plays a recorder really loudly out his open window. What kind of a guy plays a fucking flute at two am? Last night it happened again, and my boyfriend leaned out the window and yelled, “More recorder!” If you can’t stop it, you might as well have some fun. We started shouting out song requests--anything we could think of with a flute. “Men at Work! Play Bungle in the Jungle!” we shouted.
The most we got was some fluty noodling in return. What a hack. We called that flute player out.