We were four. Three guys: A, K and myself, and S. S was not really our friend or a pleasant person to be with, but we could not avoid her accompanying us as she and k were roommates and she requested to go with us. Upon an invitation extended by H in Brussels, we decided to spend the week-end with him.
K, who was always excellent at organizing a trip, was the one in charge. He rented the car and drove us the almost 300 kilometers, followed the guide map in the city and just parked the car in front of H's house in the neighborhood of Ixelles. It is wonderful to have someone in charge, in so perfect charge that all you need to do is just to relax and enjoy.
It was my second visit to Brussels and fortunately it did not rain or snow the whole weekend.
At H’s home, the four guys of us crammed in one bedroom and left the other one solely to S.
Everything went well until Saturday evening when we started to hear sounds of beats coming from upstairs. H told us that that was the neighbor signaling that we were making noise. We were surprised because we really did not make any unusual noise, but according to H, the problem was with the neighbor himself who was very old and a difficult person to deal with. He would also use racial slurs at the slightest provocation or sometimes with no provocation. H added that the old man's wife apologized few times for her husband's behavior and attributed it to his senility. I could not believe how my friend H, or anyone, could tolerate this attitude, but H said he had no other option but to leave the apartment which was not an easy decision. Besides, the police when contacted, did not take any serious action against the neighbor, so he had to live with it.
We were supposed to leave back to Paris on Sunday afternoon. S went in the morning to meet a friend of hers whom we knew too. That friend was a very decent young lady. We agreed with S to pick her up around 3 PM in front of her friend's house.
Sunday morning I went with A to buy chocolate as presents to our friends back home and then we met with K and H for lunch before we went back to the apartment to collect our stuff. We said goodbye to H and left.
We put our belongings in the trunk of the car that parked across the street and took our seats. K in the driver's seat, A in the passenger's and me in the backseat. K drove in reverse a bit to get the car out when he unintentionally hit another parked car. We went out to see if there was any damage but there was nothing.
At this exact moment, and in the very calm empty street in that Sunday afternoon, a very old man appeared out of nowhere and started to shout hysterically at us. It turned out he was the old neighbor. Every attempt to let him understand that there was no damage done failed. He did not give us one second to explain or give himself one second to listen. So, we just left him barking alone on the sidewalk and drove away. We really pitied H for having such a neighbor and thought what a continous headache he must be having.
A commented jokingly that as if the deep racist attitudes of this man were not enough for him, he now witnessed those foreigners committing a "crime" before they ran away.
We were already late for S when K realized that we had to fill up the tank, but since it was Sunday many stations were closed. Moreover, our meeting point was not easy to reach. Finally it was almost 4 o'clock when we arrived. S was just furious and I definitely understood. A quietly left the passenger's seat for her and moved to the backseat.
In these situations I would apologize and explain what happened and give the angry person time to calm down, but that was in no way A's tactics. He apologized, and that was fine. He explained in details and exaggerated about the reasons behind the delay, and that in my book was not bad. But then he kept asking her every 3 minutes if she was still mad and saying that she should not get mad. And obviously that only resulted in doubling her fury.
The tense atmosphere lasted for two hours until we decided to stop at a gas station to buy something to drink and to make a visit to the toilet. I got into the small toilet cabin first and a drawing on the wall of a huge organ drew my attention. For the last hour until we arrived Paris, S' attitude changed and she became almost normal. A whispered to me that undoubtedly what she saw on the wall of the toilet cabin has improved her mood.
Two days later I took the flight from Paris back to where I was living, A also left back for his home of residence, and K and S continued their student life and remained the foe roommates they have always been.
Paris - Brussels
December 1993
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