Granola & Joe

For the entire two years that I’ve been living in my studio apartment in Capitol Hill here in Denver, my neighbor and I had probably muttered no more than the occasional “hi,” “hello,” or “how are you?” I’m sure I’ve annoyed him when playing records at odd times of the night, and I’ve scoffed each time I’ve witnessed him driving and parking his ungodly behemoth of a monster work truck that he somehow manages to fit in our tiny basement parking garage.

Anyhow, everyone in our building in general tends to be anti-social, so it’s easy to fall into the pattern and perpetuate it, even if you are a very social person who likes to get to know people, like I am.

Nevertheless, in one of those funny situations that neighbors who don’t talk to each other get caught - and that there’s no way to get out of - we were forced to communicate with one another.

I was walking up to our building after getting off the bus and noticed he was getting his mail, and my mailbox is directly next to his. For a few seconds I thought of killing time standing outside, walking to the back of the building, or even just walking past him and going upstairs to my place, but I knew that would be petty.

So up I went and did what I do best in these situations: I sprang up some small talk about how annoying it is to get junk mail, and we both related our frustration. Afterward, he rushed upstairs quickly, obviously trying to escape the uncomfortable moment, even though it was a futile effort since I’d have to walk past him to get to my studio.

I walked up the stairs slowly to minimize the agony of having to cross paths again, and when I got up to our floor, I tried to walk by him as quickly as possible. To my surprise, as I walked behind him, he commented about the huge snowfall we’re supposed to get.

I said “That’s good news,” and asked him if he was a skier or snowboarder. He opened up and told me that this year he skipped out, since he was buying a house. I told him that’s great, and since we were both going into our apartments, I felt the need to say something to end the conversation on a good note.

Without thinking, and not realizing until later how strange it may have sounded, I said “Well, it’s good to see you again.” He said “Likewise,” and we both smiled and went our separate ways.

For a moment after stepping inside my place I thought about how I may have sounded dumb, but I soon stopped caring. I found myself feeling unexpectedly happy and good about our neighborly exchange. For a person as cynical as myself, this was a refreshing change from the norm. At least for one instance throughout our time living in these apartments, my neighbor and I treated each other with respect, and a degree of friendliness that we all could afford to show more often.