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November 27, 2009

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Columnist John Katsilometes: Homeowners Association is big laugh

Tuesday, Aug. 10, 1999 | 9:24 a.m.

John Katsilometes' column appears Tuesdays and Sundays. Reach him at 259-2327 or kats@vegas.com.

My life is under the constant and careful observation of my neighborhood homeowners association. Or as we call it, HA!

Not being an actual homeowner, I have only occasional direct contact with HA! My wife and I rent a condominium from a friend living in Arizona who receives regular updates from HA! headquarters (wherever that might be). He's also provided valuable inside information, such as the latest HA! regulations discussed at every HA! meeting.

My wife and I have never been to a HA! meeting. As lowly renters, we're not invited. Our friend in Arizona gets invited, but because he lives in Arizona he's never able to attend. So our condominium is always without direct representation in HA! meetings, and when HA! passes down a unilateral edict (such as, men with unsightly back hair will not be allowed into the pool area) we have no say in the matter.

Once our friend informed us, "The association has decided to charge owners for cleaning up any excess oil leaking from cars onto the parking lot."

"Did they define 'excess'?" I asked.

"Nope," my friend said.

Most HA! representatives I've encountered are shirtless, well-tanned retirees wearing sandals, big swimming shorts and baseball caps, comfortably dressed for a day at the pool. They're a curious lot, too, always confronting suspicious-looking characters. Once a HA! person bumped into me as I was heading out for work and said, "Which casino do you work for?"

I told him I didn't work at a casino, but at the newspaper. I imagined him announcing at the next HA! meeting, "Well, gang, we were wrong about the guy in No. 205. He's not a casino person but a newspaper person! Let's keep an eye on him."

A HA! person ambled up when my wife moved to Las Vegas from California. We were unloading furniture from a big U-Haul truck and he said, without provocation, "We've got rules here, and this isn't the kind of place for loud parties late at night." We fought the urge to plug in "Led Zeppelin IV," open all the windows and crank the volume up to 11.

HA! is particularly persnickety when dealing with the facilities, especially the pool. I was swimming in one of the two pools a couple of months ago and got out to dangle my feet in the water. A HA! person showed up and said, "You know, this is a lap pool."

I responded, "I was just swimming laps." He nodded, in a skeptical sort of way, and I'm sure unabated foot-dangling in the lap pool was a hot agenda item at that month's HA! meeting.

At least you can count on HA! in times of great need.

Not long ago we bought a new couch and realized it wouldn't fit through the front door of our second-story condo. With the help of a couple of friends, we tied a rope around the beast and hoisted it up over the outside balcony.

As two of us pushed from below and two others pulled from upstairs, a HA! person materialized out of thin air. He watched us struggle with all of our might against the unyielding weight of the couch, then asked, "Did you try carrying it through the front door?"

"No way," one of our friends said. "Where's the challenge in that?"

The HA! person said he was going to change out of his pool clothes and rush back to help us. We never saw him again.

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