I feel like an asshole, an American asshole. Dear neighbor across the street, you've bugged the shit out of me for years now. And yes, you're from Mexico, but that's not why I dislike you. I dislike you because you litter and you seem to find it necessary to wash your driveway and sidewalk with a water hose, let your toddler run in the middle of the street, play your music so damn loud that my windows rattle and instead of spending hours on your yard, you spend it on your truck. You're a nuisance, race aside and I don't like you. So, when I saw you and your amigo drinking in the front seat of your truck on an evening last week, bass-ladened music infiltrating my peace, I decided that enough was enough. I called the police and said you were drunk driving, even though you weren't, and I threw in that I thought you were smoking pot, too. I wanted revenge, I wanted to act out and calling the authorities was the only way I knew how. What I didn't know is that they would handcuff you and sit you on the curb for TWO HOURS. The flashing of police lights filled the street and your humiliated looks were too much for me to bear. I didn't want to publicly humiliate you, I only wanted you to stop with the incessant noise-making. I'll never forget that look on your face, with your glazed eyes looking all ashamed and embarrassed. I'm an asshole and I know it. I doubt you'll even read this, but I just want to say I'm sorry.