UPDATE:
Dear Readers,
The mystery neighbor problem has been solved. The people across the hall from me are not drug dealers, musicians or vampires. They are a jock-tool couple who spend each weekend getting drunk, breaking up, and making up.

I finally got to the bottom of the mystery by bursting out of my apartment in my underpants at four o’clock in the morning, roaring “WHAT THE HELL IS WRONG WITH YOU PEOPLE???” Awesomely, I did not bring my keys with me for this confrontation, which I realized as I heard the dull thud of my door closing behind me. The drunken couple, now made up, stared at me with shock and horror as I pretended I was sleepwalking to cover up my acute humiliation. I put my arms in front of me, Frankenstein-style, and ranted about Nixon.

Eventually the maintenance man came across our trio as he was making his rounds. He let me into my apartment without commentary, and I went back to bed. As I drifted off to sleep I couldn’t help but feel a little smug, even if I looked like a complete idiot. I think the couple across the hall will think twice before they wake up the scantily-clad-sleepwalker again.

Thanks for all your help.

Sincerely,
Poor Lucky Me

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