Source Material

I can say without hesitation that Mikki and Minnie were among the most interesting and intelligent people I have known, let alone hung out with. We met on my first night in the apartment.

There was a raucous party taking place on the opposite side of my bedroom wall. By 2:00 AM I had worked myself into a rage based on the silly idea that a rent-paying tenant in New York City had rights – at least the right to peace and quiet at that time of night.

I pounded on my neighbors’ door. Instantly, there was silence. After a few seconds of whispering and shuffling, I heard a soft, female voice.

“Hello?”

I explained in no uncertain terms that I demanded quiet in order to sleep.

“Oh, I’m so sorry. We’re just having fun. We’ll be quiet. I promise.”

I returned to my apartment, satisfied that I had made my case. Within a few minutes, the party sounds returned. In short order, the noise had risen to its previous level. I set up camp on the living room floor.

At 6:00 AM, my doorbell rang and I met my neighbors – mid-twenties, beautiful, friendly, and by no means “partied out.” They spoke as a team, alternating lines.

“Were sorry about the noise.”
“I guess we got a little wild.”
“We have parties sometimes.”
“But usually things are pretty quiet.”
“We brought you something.”
“A peace-offering.”
“It’s a tuna casserole.”
“If you want, we can all share it.”

Let’s see. Dinner with two gorgeous girls at 6:00 AM. Why not?

By 8:00 AM, I had learned quite a lot about Mikki and Minnie. Clearly, they loved to talk. And, from the start, there was a tacit understanding that I expected nothing from them beyond a meal and some amazingly colorful conversation.

They also learned a few things about me that morning. The major bonding moment occurred when I told them about my Aunt Ginny, including the affection I had felt for her when I was a child.