true west. 1984
The guys in the house behind us had a band. They were rehearsing late. Isabelle was 5 or 6, and couldn't get to sleep. She had a headache. She was crying. I climbed over the fence and yelled, but they couldn't hear me, so I banged on the back of their house with a 2 x 4. The music stopped, and one of them looked out the window, stunned, or stoned, or both, and stared at me. That's when I realized I'd crossed over to the other side: Now I was the asshole neighbor, not the guy in the band.