I'm curled into my layZboy, napping at like two in the morning last Thursday when I am very rudely interrupted by a goddamn drunken guy hollerin' outside.
"You bitch. Fucking lemme in. Answer your phone. ANSWER YOUR PHONE. Bitch. BITCH (somethingsomethingsomething, murmblemurmble) or I wull breakthisdoor you FUCKING SLUT--"
Another voice joins the cacophony. "Hey, pal, you need something?"
"My girlfrend is in there, and she won't let me in because she's a FUCKING BITCH."
"Buddy, you need to calm down, it's like two in the morning."
"Fuck that. She's a whooooooore." And then that fucker rang my buzzer, and I damn near fell off my chair. MoLinder's cats are sitting next to each other, watching the back door all tail-swishy and narrow-eyed, the embodiment of haughty and annoyed.
"There are drunk, obnoxious people outside, Cats," I tell them. "Chill out."
Panther, the black one, chirps loudly and stretches.
"Does she live here?" I hear from outside.
"She's upstairs. I know she is."
"Maybe you've got the wrong building."
"Fuck that, she is up there, and I'm calling her all night, and that BITCH WONE LEMME IN."
I'm just listening, alternating between fascinated and irritated. They talk for a little while longer, and finally the yelling stops, and the second guy vanishes.
The cats lose interest and wander away into the darkness of the apartment, so I focus on the television. Apparently Macy's is having a sale this weekend. I consider trying to really fall asleep in my actual bed, but then I'm distracted--
There is someone standing on my fucking porch.
"Oh, fuck that," I scoff, and watch as this shadow scans the frosted window off the door. I know he can't see inside, but I can see the outline of his sideways baseball cap, and it's obvious that he's trying to do some shady shit. So I go put on a bra. If I'm gonna kick someone off my porch, I need support.
Back at the door, I squint out there. Fucker is still on my goddamn porch. Swift as possible (which is not swift at all), I unbolt the door and swing it open, slam the screen door into the brick wall of the building and stomp out there.
"Can I help you?" I demand. It is not a question. This is business. He panics, backpedals, and scrambles over the wall of the porch, falling onto the front stairs of the building. I smile.
After he struggles to his feet, he peers over the ledge of the wall. It's level with his eyes. "I'm sorry. I'm looking for my grillfrend."
"You fucking woke me up."
"Can you just lemme inthe bilding? Please? I know where she-is."
"Why were you on my porch?"
"I'm looking... fermygrillfrend. Girlfriend."
"She's obviously not here. Why were you on my porch?"
"I was just," he sighs, deeply, and shrugs. "You know, whatever. Please lemme in thebilding."
"Where are you headed?"
"Yaknow Christine? I'm looking for Christine."
Christine is my old roommate. "She moved out over a year ago."
"No, she didn't. She livesonthe...third floor."
"There is no Christine on the third floor. I know everyone in the building."
"She jus' movedin. Like Monday."
"Do you know whose room she took?"
"Hmmmmffffff. Paul. Guy named Paul. Works at High Dive." (Paul moved out? What the fuck? He's been here for like six years.)
I'm skeptical. "Okay, well, maybe, but I still don't know her. Maybe she locked you out on purpose."
"But she's wifmy girlfrend."
"Whatever, I'm not letting you in. Why don't you go catch a cab?"
"I would, buhmycarsrighthere," he points to the street, "and my girlfrend...has. My. Keyes."
"You shouldn't be driving now anyway, dude. Go home."
"Home's Joliet. You know Joliet? Thass home."
"Then I can't help you. Get off the steps. Find your girlfriend in the morning."
"I just wanna go inside."
"I don't give a shit."
"I get it. I unnerstan. I do. Sometimes you gotta be a bitch. I wouldn't lemme in either. I'm a good guy. I just wanna be wifmy grillfrend."
"Maybe she doesn't want to be with you."
"Maybe. No. No, not maybe, we have a house. We have a house. She's not answering her phone. Could you lemme in?"
"Dude, get off the steps. Get a hotel or something."
"I...I don't know."
"Get off the steps or I'm calling the cops."
"Okay. Fine. I unnerstan. S'good you're here to...help."
"Have a good night. Get the fuck off the steps."
"I'm gone."
And then he left.
...
29 comments:
You are fucking brave. I would have just called the cops. Drunk people are too irrational for me. I mean, unless I'm drunk.
I agree that you're brave. I would have been all paranoid and gotten my expired pepper spray, to mace his ass, just in case.
And I love that you put on a bra to go out to yell at him.
You are impressive. All I'm gonna say.
When I need support, I look to my friends, Smith & Wesson. They're always there for me. And that's what dude would have gotten in his chest had he been standing on MY porch. So it's probably good he wasn't. That would just end up messy.
That's pretty crazy, just opening the door and getting pissy with him! I totally understand it, though! Drunks are so impossible to reason with!
I hope it was your bullet-proof bra.
Ross, sometimes there's a thin line between brave and dumb. But you know more about drunks than I do. Though I know a bit.
1. Fuck YEAH you grabbed a bra first!
2. How kooky is it that we both confronted ne'er do wells outside our doors, using the same opening line, within a month of each other?
3. Should you decide to go that route, you will make a kick-arse mother. Trust me.
25 years ago, i got punched by a drunk chick who accidently landed her car in my front yard at midnight on a tuesday. let her in the house, tried to calm her down and let her call friends for help, but she went whack. we got her on the front porch just as she lost her shit. punched me, and then put her fist through my front window as the cops pulled up...
two words, rassles: baseball bat. get one. better than a gun because you are less likely to bust the neighbors dog by accident when you're swinging a bat.
you done good, but a nice wooden louisville slugger is a friend indeed.
Whoa, you are my hero!
Smart move grabbing a bra first.
was he cute?
dang, shoulda stolen him from Christine or whoever.
Drunk Rassles with her new drunk boyfriend.
Increible "I Needed a Bra!"
...there's a guy named Paul who works at a bar and you aren't wif him gurl?
wtf. FREE DRINKS!
The fact that you bothered to put on bra before you took care of this guy makes you AWESOME!
I'm chickenshit, I would have called the cops then screamed at him from through my door. Or possibly gone out with a sword in my hands... Though maybe a baseball bat would be less crazy. Then again at 2 am crazy probably helps with dealing with drunks. Next time, bring your sword.
I would stepped out with a baseball bat or something. And just raised it above his head. And told him the cold reality of ... she.doesn't.want.to.see.you.
You're drunk and useless. Get a life. Fuck off. Now.
But that's just me.
I have no patience
You're so good Rass. I would have called the cops and then busted him in the head with a tire iron just before they got there.
Next time I'm having a nervous breakdown, I'm callin' you.
Holy crap. You are brave. I would totally have started by calling the cops.
Reasoning with drunk people is a mega talent.
I know. I'm really well practiced.
This made me laugh and laugh. Hard like a rock.
Also, I keep a machete by my bed downstairs, a fighting blade (my shank) upstairs, and pepper spray by my pillow for times like these.
I highly recommend having weapons handy just in case. Even though I envision using mine on zombies rather than drunks generally. Now that I think it through, I'm not sure the pepper spray would do me much good in a zombie defense situation. Damn it.
You just became my hero. Alright, shut up, you already kind of were my hero.
This is why your friends call you to protect them from monsters. Conflict resolution and management.
obviously this is a sign that we have put off acquiring a sweet-ass machete from coldsteel.com. we need to get on that before the next drunken asshole ends up on our porch
i hate that i am always left speechless with your aweseommity. (FUCK YES THAT'S A WORD.)
if you are on my porch i punch first and ask questions later, did make for a weird moment with the girl scout troop that one time.
Libby: I would be way more nervous surrounded by cops than surrounded by irrational drunks, even if those cops were on my side. Police officers tend to have the opposite effect of their intentions.
Chamuca: I don't own pepper spray, because I'm the kind of person that would spray themselves just to see how it feels.
Chris: I think I'm kind of an idiot, but thanks.
Stillie: It never occurred to me to be scared. (aaaaand the inability to properly gauge a potentially dangerous situation? That would make me crazy.)
Franklin: DO THEY MAKE THOSE?
Red: And sometimes there are obnoxious people that need to be kicked the fuck off your porch.
Ginny: I didn't even realize that we used the same opening line. Look at us. We're like fucking heroes or something.
Daisy: You are also a hero, along with me and Ginny. But more importantly: my baseball bat was in the trunk of my car.
McLovin: Oh yeah, that's just the kind of guy I'm looking for. Someone to hang outside my bedroom window and yell "you fucking slut" at the top of his lungs. Dreamy.
Meems: Paul is a good acquaintance. Most importantly, he is the ex-boyfriend of one of my BFFs. He's also a big misogynist. Other than that though, winner!
Sid: You know what else makes me awesome? Will you tell me, so I can hear it all the time?
Meagan: Me and the roommate have been entertaining the idea of a sword for a long time.
Maryx: I kind of like getting people's back story and having irrational conversations. This was fun for me. I wasn't even angry, just really annoyed.
Mongo: Okey dokey, but I'm warning you, I get really condescending around people when they're all nervous breakdowny.
Jane: It was really pointless to do that, though, when I have logic and mean stare on my side.
Boomer: You probably would have done the exact same thing.
Tabbie: I KNEW I should have gotten that machete.
Blues: I'm going to get myself a cape.
RF: And stupidity. Don't forget that.
MoL: It's not my fault we don't have one, you're the one who's all about buying one. I have the two deadliest weapons right here, bitch. My fists.
Mae: Aweseommity? I've always used "Awesomosity." Mine's totally better.
Kono: And this is for TAGALONGS! And THIN MINTS! And SAMOAS!
Lots of patience there - I reckon you have experience in handling out of control drunks?
Yep, I'm absolutely calling you. Best thing someone ever told me when I decided to get all breakdowny? "Shut the fuck up."
I got over it real quick.
Did you learn nothing from the dude in paranormal activity?? Hah.
You are my fucking hero.
Just read the rest of the comments and discovered I'm not so original. Or else you are just very impressive. You are. x
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