June 5 will mark the third year anniversary of the death of Dee Dee Ramone. He and his wife and dog lived on and off in the hotel during the year preceding his death. For part of that time, Dee Dee was my neighbor. Here is the story of how we met. 
Somebody new had moved into the room next door. I had heard him moving his stuff in late the night before, but as yet I hadn’t met him. He was quiet now, just before noon, apparently asleep.
Some workers began doing renovations on the floor above us: a lot of sawing and tap-tap-tapping with a hammer. After about a half an hour of this noise, the guy next door started banging on my wall, screaming, “Shut up! Shut up! Shut up!”
I didn’t think he could be talking to me, since all I was doing was sitting there writing. But after a few more minutes of banging on my wall, the guy came out of his room and banged on my door.
I opened the door and there stood Dee Dee Ramone. I had seen him around the hotel, but never like this. He wore only his underwear, his white jockey shorts, and he was covered with tattoos: skulls, pistols, dice, black cats, the numbers 13 and 666—over his arms, chest, and legs.
I was taken aback, and stood marveling at his tattoos. Though Dee Dee was small and skinny, skeletal even, with all the tattoos, he was still kind of threatening. On top of that he was insanely angry, shaking with rage.
“Is that you making that noise?!” he demanded.
“No, Dee Dee. It’s not me,” I replied. “I think it’s the construction workers upstairs.”
Without another word Dee Dee went back into his room, flung open his window, stuck his head out, and yelled up at the construction workers: “Shut up, you motherfuckers! You do that work later! Shut up!”
One of the workers must have looked down from the window above, because then Dee Dee said, “I see you, motherfucker! I know who you are! I don’t wanna hear that hammering again!”
It got real quiet for a moment. And then from above I heard a very deliberate: TAP TAP TAP TAP TAP TAP TAP!
“You motherfucker! I’ll kill you!” Dee Dee screamed. “You come down here to the third floor! I’ve got a knife, and I’ll be waiting for you in the hallway!” (Copyright 2006 Ed Hamilton)
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