Ah yes, that next-door-neighbor sex thing . . .

I live in a developing country with strange construction. The walls between the duplexes are solid masonry (good), but the walls stop at the ceiling level (bad). The ceilings are those "drop ceiling" types--basically lightweight tiles that rest on a fragile framework which is hung from the roof on thin wires. When you lift up any ceiling tile, you can look directly onto your neighbor's ceiling because there is no vertical wall that separates the two duplex units above the ceiling level.

Of course, this construction is in insane when it comes to security. Each duplex unit is vulnerable to anyone who decides to crawl around in the attic space. Worse, the noise floats, uninhibited, across the tops of the walls from the adjacent duplex, right through the thin ceiling tiles. Might as well he those paper-thin walls talked about on this subReddit.

I was the first to move in to our duplex and hoped/prayed for a decent neighbor to move in next door. I had a great break when I heard that a couple who were both professors at a nearby university were interested in my adjoining duplex. They moved in shortly thereafter. Seemingly mild-mannered, innocuous, nerdy type middle-forties couple with no kids. Probably studied all the time and listened to quiet classical music.

It was less than a week when I found out that they certainly did more than write lesson plans and enjoy Debussy.

In the middle of the night I began dreaming about a moaning ghost that was hovering somewhere over my head. It was one of those scary dreams where you want to wake up but can't, and your body is paralyzed. The moaning was deep, and loud. It got louder and more frequent until I thought any moment this apparition would reach for my neck and strangle me in my sleep. I was terrified.

Yeah, you guessed it. The otherworldly visitor wasn't real, but the otherworldly moaning was all too real. At a certain...uh...climax, the moan became a shriek and I jerked awake in an awful sweat. The reality quickly sank in that I had just acquired a mild-mannered academic neighbor-couple who were tigers by night with all the appropriate jungle sounds. It would go on for hours--always 3am-ish.

Each morning as we often both exited the front of the duplex for work, we saw each other and there was no look or body language that indicated any embarrassment or guilt--by either them or myself. We were both, I must brag, pretty cool about it. Until I started losing precious sleep. It continued nearly nightly, and I put up with it until I started getting up exhausted and working all day in a fog. My work was starting to suffer. Others were noticing my bloodshot eyes, and irritable responses to the mildest of situations.

I patiently put up with the haunting moaning and shrieking climaxes for nearly a month until one night I cracked. I had an especially demanding day coming up, and between the audible sex-show and my apprehension, sleep was not to be had. I'd had enough--mild-mannered academic couple or not--I was going to confront their wild side.

I quietly pulled a step ladder out of a closet, put it next to the adjoining wall, climbed to the top, and slid a large ceiling tile off to the side. When I stuck my head up into the crawl space, the moans were deafening. It was definitely female in origin, and whatever male entity was causing this audible reaction was remarkably silent. Such self-control. I almost hated to ruin the moment, but my ragged body and mind had little self-control by this time.

I craned my neck as far as I could over the masonry wall, until I'm sure my face was right above the very ceiling tile he or she was staring at on the other side. It was at this moment, that I realized I had not rehearsed anything for the ultimate confrontation. What to say that would evoke threat, fear or just humiliation? Not a clue. Until I suddenly dredged up something really original I had heard my dad shouting across the paper-thin apartment wall to an amorous couple during my childhood. I will always remember his tact and discretion.

"Get a hotel!" I shouted at the backside of the tile.

Immediate silence. Not the slightest follow-up whimper. I waited for something. I couldn't even hear heavy breathing. Two heart attacks? Whatever. Yup, my loud command turned out to be a real show-stopper.

Sleep left me. I laid awake the rest of the night wondering if there would be any repercussions, and how long the silence would last. It lasted. The next morning we both exited our duplexes at the same time. It was as if nothing had ever happened. No strange look, no body language to indicate that there had been any kind of fracas or socially unacceptable event of the night before.

The rest of the month passed in peace, and my health returned with full nights of uninterrupted sleep. I began to think of my neighbors as pretty laid-back (excuse the expression) and resilient. Maybe they really did get a hotel. But I was apparently wrong, as I watched them cart away all their belongs in a couple pick-up loads and padlock the door on the 31st.

Two months later, I was having coffee with an acquaintance downtown. I could tell he was visibly agitated, and his eyes were red-rimmed. Then a familiar story began to unfold over the much-needed caffeine.

"There's this university teacher-couple who moved in next to my apartment a couple months ago. I'd say mid-forties. They are the sweetest, mild-mannered neighbors, but you wouldn't believe what goes on at night. It gives me nightmares."

I held up a hand like the Pope about to give an unexpected blessing, stopping him before he could get out another word. With my other hand over my mouth, I made a quiet moaning sound which only we two could hear--and recognize as that haunting spirit's groans which would end with a shriek. I skipped the shriek in deference to nearby studying students. I thought my friend would break down in tears as he realized another soul shared his pain.

I then dispensed the absolute best, and effective advice I knew for his predicament. "Do you have ceiling tiles that permit you access over their wall? Hmmm. I can picture that. Good. Now get a ladder...."