This story, although kind of sad, makes me laugh. It’s definitely odd.
It seems this fellow who just moved to a new apartment discovered that someone in his midst has a hate on for trombones.
Sam and a lady friend had been living in Dixon. But this summer she got a job offer in Peoria, so they found an apartment near Pioneer Parkway. In mid-July, they began moving in stages: they brought a small number of items (including the trombone) about a month ago, while a maintenance crew cleaned and painted their place. Then they returned with more items at the end of the month.
On that second trip, Sam glimpsed the bedroom closet. That’s where he’d placed his trombone, zipped inside its canvas case. But the case had been torn open — “They didn’t even bother to use the zipper,” Sam says — and the trombone left disheveled.
So he didn’t even manage to play it in his new apartment and tick off his neighbours before someone decided to wreck it? There’s a part of me that wonders if the damaging of the trombone was a bit of, ahem, preventative maintenance. You have to wonder, since it later says there was no signs of forced entry, and maintenance crews were in there when he dropped it off.
I used to play the trumpet, although if I picked it up now, it would probably sound like a wounded cow had gotten loose in the apartment building. I have to wonder, if I’d continued to play, if my poor trumpet would have been messed with.
It seems like the trombone does him some good, so I hope he can fix it. But maybe he should figure out how to sound-proof his apartment too.