Boy oh boy, did I have a night last night.
Hubby was out with a buddy. I was sitting on the couch in front of the T.V., making a mandolin strap. Around midnight, I heard the building door open, and someone come up the stairs. Then, someone tried to open our door, and, finding it was locked, knocked on the door.
I was expecting Mr. AFG back around this time, and he said he’d bring coffee for us. I thought he had his hands too full to fish around for his keys, so I got up and opened the door.
It wasn’t Mr. AFG. A young and very drunk guy stood teetering slightly in our doorway. He reeked of several different kinds of alcohol. Oh, great, I thought, and tried to remember something from my childhood Karate lessons.
“Is this Phil’s?” He said thickly.
“No, you have the wrong apartment,” I replied, trying to hide most of my body behind the door.
“Uh, crap”, he said, looking at his shoes. “Can I ask what floor this is? I’m not trying to be a dick.” His bloodshot eyes strained to focus on me.
“This is the second floor.” I said with a big fake smile.
“Oh. Sorry. Sorry to bother you.” He mumbled. I said it was ok, and shut and locked the door. Fine, no problem, right? Wrong place. It happens. I went back to the couch.
For the next few minutes I heard the echoes of him clomping around and falling in the hallway, then, something that sounded an awful lot like a body thumping against out door, then sliding down to the floor.
I was not going to open the door this time. I started wishing hard for Mr. AFG to come back.
Thankfully, about 15 minutes later, I heard a car pull up outside. I heard the building door open and footsteps come up the stairs. They stopped when they reach the top, then I heard them go back down. I went out on the patio to see what’s going on. Mr AFG and his buddy came outside and looked up at me.
“Call the police,” hubby yelled up, “There’s a guy passed out in front of our door.”
Wonderful. I dialed for the police. The dispatcher said she’d send someone right over. In the meantime, apparently the lush woke up. I heard him get up and stumble down the stairs leading to the other side of the building. I went back out on the patio. “I think he’s gone,” I yelled to Mr. AFG. He peeked inside the door, saw that he was indeed gone, said goodbye to his friend and came up. A few minutes later police arrived. I gave them a description of the guy and told them where I thought he went. They said they’d go hunt for him. Seemed like everything was pretty much back to normal after that.
Then, around 4am, I was getting into my pajamas and hubby was going to the washroom. I suddenly heard a banging at the door, and somebody rang the doorbell multiple times. I ran to the door and looked in the peephole, then ran over to my husband. “That guy’s back!” I said.
“I’ll call the police again,” he said. he finished his business and went to the phone. As he was dialing the hammering on the door began to get louder. I remember that our apartment doors are made of crappy hollow plywood, and I know that inebriated people can exhibit unnatural stength. I go and grab the only weapon I have, my katana. Just in case he breaks in before the police get here.
Mercifully, only a couple minutes later, I heard the door bang open downstairs, and footsteps come up. “Hey, you!” yelled a voice. “Get up!” I heard someone dragging the lush to his feet. As the cop dragged the guy downstairs his partner knocked on the door and I opened the door to tell him the story. As I opened it, a wall of stink hit me. I looked to see that the lovely creature had left a large pile of vomit just outside the door. Hubby grabbed a box of baking soda and dumped it onto the mess to try and cover up the hideous smell. It didn’t help.
I told the officer the story, and thanked him for coming, and told him I’m sorry they have to deal with this loser. He thanked me for my sentiments and went to help his partner load the lush in the car. Me and Mr. AFG went out on the patio to watch. As they’re leading the guy to the car, the first cop stops, sniffs, and turns towards the lush.
Cop: Buddy, did you shit yourself?
Lush: (meekly) I don’t know.
Mr. AFG to Lush: You puked outside our door though, asshole.
Cop (looking at Lush): You did do that.
Lush: (mumbles incoherently)
They stuffed him in the car, rolled down all the windows, and drove off. It took me quite awhile to get to sleep.
This morning I also discovered that the drunkard had tracked the shit running down his legs all over our doormat . Thanks, you son of a bitch. There is no way I’m going to clean any of that mess up. Who knows what that guy had, besides bad judgement when it comes to guessing how much he could drink.
And that’s my exciting Saturday night.
I don’t think a pic of me at that hour and in that situation would have been very easy on the eyes, though… 
