Question of the Day: how can we wean people from confusing a toilet with an entrance hall?

Julia Suntsova

A flight above - two uncorked bottles of champagne (for two it turns out), a scattered snack, abandoned fur coats, iPhones.

Seeing me with their unfocused eyes, as far as their cottony legs allow, they are carried away floors down. Fur coats and phones remain with me as a pledge, it turns out.

I've been standing with my jaw dropped for a minute or two. I knock on the neighbors on the floor - maybe the impromptu council has a proven solution.

The neighbor's reaction: "They've gone crazy, I'm smoking there" ... Hmm. This is, of course, an "argument". Fierce competition for a habitable clearing. Where people smoke, they don't make toilets.

The neighbor forces strangers to pick up clothes and dump. The girls, who were waiting for the denouement, return to the scene of the crime, even step into the puddle they have made, take away their fur coats with iPhones and disappear.

And I've been thinking about what to do for a week now.

I immediately pulled myself away from the mechanical - to spoil the lives of teenagers by handing over to the police because of a puddle in the entrance - disproportionately, as for me. The devil knows how these police commissions on juvenile affairs are arranged. They can also hit a weak ridge with a running start - physically and mentally. But something tells me that drives have happened without me.

Looking for parents? I guess it's yes. But from the thought that it will be necessary to deal with morality, it reduces his teeth.

Forcing to wipe a puddle seems to be the surest thing to do in this situation. But the levers seem to be missing. They didn’t work in the housing and communal services system, they didn’t build anyone in life, there is no command voice with an obscene amplifier. Send for a mop with a bucket, they won’t return, take out their utensils - well, an option. Remove itself - for the sake of at least some movement forward?

Pretending that everything is OK and living in a crap entrance is such a thing. It's like they pissed on my life and my self-respect too. On the liquidity of the property, in the end.

In the bottom line, it turns out - they got away with it, which means they will do it again.

I wrap a circle around the house, breathe-breathe-breathe, I return. So it is, done again. Now the puddles are not only on my floor, but also on two flights below and on one more - the contents of an erupted stomach. Three puddles and vomit.

The company, as if nothing had happened, having measured a few meters from the epicenters of the stench, made a new nest for itself.

The same fur coats, phones, new bottles. There are only three girls. They drink from the throat, listen to music on afyons, twitch their knees.

I enter into a dialogue. Turns out they live in the same building. One girl almost proudly announces that she has no parents, and there is no one to complain about her upbringing to.

The second asks for forgiveness and tries to make excuses - so, they say, before that, no matter how many entrances they drank, no one made comments, it seemed like they didn’t even understand that they were doing something wrong. Yes, of course, it also happened to wet the entrance at the peak of drunken fun, but what can you do - a living organism. All three with an expression in their eyes swear, which is a shame. They voice decision No. 1 - "Well, the cleaners will come and wash." Then they suddenly promise to clean everything up themselves - as if only in order to quickly exhaust the awkward episode and send the buzzing aunt (me) away.

It is hard to believe in repentance, all the more active. In such a state of non-standing, in principle, there can be no ability to clean. As soon as I turn my heels, they turn the music on.

A cursory survey of friends from Moscow gives polar solutions.

"100% police case - alcohol + minors."

Others answer that this is a standard practice for the winter season, and they ALSO DID THIS in childhood (?!), but they didn’t become drug addicts, alcoholics, all with a good and well-paid job, and only now, they say, from the height of age it is clear what kind those entertainments were indecent. “What should teenagers do?

Apparently, I was lucky with my childhood. Or vice versa? In those days, I was not looking for places where I could swell with classmates. And there was nowhere to take time for such leisure. There were no windows between lessons in a regular school and a music school, a choreography circle three times a week, a physics and mathematics circle for preparing for the Unified State Examination on weekends, sports sections and a shaft of homework and preparatory courses for entering a university. And after all, this is not Moscow, but a small village 1000 km from the Moscow Ring Road.

And even if it remained, I can’t imagine a single circumstance that would make you lower your pants in the stairwell.

All my close friends and entourage, no matter what state they were in, also didn’t have fun like that (well, or they don’t admit it). And now, in the fourth decade of life, you understand that you didn’t sniff life at all, it turns out, since this scene crushed me like that.

Leaving the dialogue, she could only offer to help out in a neighborly way, if suddenly trouble. In general, let's better bake pies together, watch movies, yoga.

The promise to remove was not kept. How, then, in you devils, to bring up respect for people, for neighbors?

The girls are having fun, I'm worried, the puddle is puddle.

Pain. For the fact that in my country in a big city with its opportunities teenagers have such leisure. It’s embarrassing for myself - now I live in a labeled house. In general, everything around now seems to be pissed. And entrances, and entire metropolitan areas, and human destinies.

What would you do in my place?

Maybe it was necessary to go out with your glass and also spread a fur coat nearby, burn hearts with a verb and take responsibility for raising orphans?