Not My Proudest Moment
Oh man, this happened in my junior year of college. Not my proudest moment. Me and maybe half a dozen friends are hanging out on Saturday night and we are just crispy baked. Then there was a knock at the door. Serious knocking. Panicked knocking. What do we do?
Gotta be officers, and we are so screwed. Like, I’m getting kicked out of housing this time. So one of the girls goes to answer the door. A guy with insane Ted Kaczynski hair and no pants is SCREAMING at the door to let him in. The girl screams and tries to shut the door, but the guy is forcing his way in.
He is bleeding pretty bad, and is suddenly basically draped over my friend in a heap. He is totally incoherent, just keeps yelling PLEASE and making no sense otherwise. My friend runs down to help the girl. I could muster precisely zero courage. I was terrified.
I stood at the top of the stairs like a housewife who had seen a mouse in an old cartoon. WHAT DO WE DO, WHAT DO WE DO!? OH GOD WHAT DO WE DO!? We have to call the authorities! Right? I CANT DO IT I’M FREAKING OUT MAN. I DON’T KNOW WHAT TO DO WITH MY HANDS!
Someone finally calls and tells the authorities an old, possibly homeless man is trying to force his way into the apartment. I remain totally panicking at the top of the steps, helping in no way whatsoever. My friend has now wrestled the guy out of the apartment and is trying to calm him down.
Eventually, officers come and they take the disheveled, pantsless homeless man away in an ambulance. We close the door and sit back down in the living room. “Is anyone else not baked at all anymore?” someone asked. We were not.
We’d go over the series of events a hundred times over the next few weeks. I tried to downplay my role as the guardian of the stairwell.
Like a week later, though, we’d find out it was neither an old guy nor a homeless guy, but rather a friend of a friend on a really bad acid trip who had lost his pants and ran through a field in a panic. Story credit: Reddit / soomuchcoffee