Who is this man sittin' in my kitchen?

Miscellaneous and Personal Stuff I Must Share
1

Being a bit of an insomniac, I was still awake on my couch this morning at 5am when I heard the front door open. I thought, ‘Hrm, I didn’t notice Mr.Mirth leaving. Must’ve been after I fell asleep.’ So I turn around and see a guy who is not Mr.Mirth walk into my apartment. He is a skinny little guy wearing black pants and no shirt. I think ‘Weird, I don’t recognize him.’ Then I realize that he is very out of it. He looks at me for a second and then moves and sits on our other couch. As he moves to the couch, I get up and back towards the bedroom-- major freak-out now occurring as I realize that a strange guy who is possibly on drugs just walked in my apartment at 5am. As I’m backing towards my bedroom I fleetingly wonder how I’m going to call 911 when the phone is in the room with the guy, but mostly I’m just thinking how I don’t want to be alone in the room with him and I need to get my hubby. Half-heartedly I tell the guy he’s in the wrong apartment and needs to leave. He doesn’t seem to hear me. I walk into the bedroom, dragging a blanket with me as I was only wearing a T-shirt. Another fit of panic surges up as I fight with the blanket trailing behind me to close the bedroom door. Finally the door closes and I turn around and tell hubby that a strange drunk guy just walked into our apartment. Mr.Mirth is instantly awake and understands the situation, which in retrospect is rather amazing considering I woke him from a dead sleep by walking into the room and babbling the story as I got dressed. As he got dressed I asked him, ‘Should I call 911?’ Hubby says he will deal with it. In the meanwhile, the guy has gone into our bathroom and is heaving his guts out. With the living room now unoccupied, I scurry out and grab the cordless phone. Mr.Mirth very calmly grabs a roll of papertowels and waits outside the bathroom door. When the door opens, hubby hands the guy the papertowels and tells him to clean up any messes he made. I am hiding in the bedroom again, so I’m not sure how the guy responds to that. I hear them move to the living room. Hubby makes some sort of joke about him having the wrong apartment and also about them being dressed alike. (Mr.Mirth is also shirtless and wearing black pants.) Then hubby asks, ‘What apartment are you looking for?’ in a very friendly I-want-to-help-you tone. Finally the guy speaks, but all I hear from my hiding place is the name Jason. I peek out and see that the guy has laid out on our couch. Hubby has his arm and is pulling him up saying, ‘Sorry, you can’t stay here, man.’ He directs him towards the door and says, ‘Here you go, this way.’ And, at last, the guy is out of our apartment! Mr.Mirth locks the door and grimaces as he looks at the clock for the first time to see how early it is.

There’s not much reason for this thread except that hubby just left for work and I’m trying to talk myself out of calling a friend to come stay with me. I’m pretty certain that the guy won’t remember being in my apt, and I doubt he had any harmful intentions, since he didn’t seem to have a clue where he was. Nevertheless, I’m feeling pretty jumpy and the 10 year old in me thinks that my couches and bathroom now have cooties and need to be thoroughly disinfected.

2

How did he get in? Did you leave your door unlocked?

3

EEEEEEK!!! You and Mr. Mirth handled that so much better than I would have. In a t-shirt at 5 am, no less. I’m glad it didn’t get any weirder. Was he just a homeless guy wandering around, do you think? Or did he really have the wrong apartment?

4

Ahh, forgot to mention that. My hubby went out for a smoke break and forgot to lock the door when he came back in. He apologized after showing our uninvited guest the door.

Although, I must admit neither of us are completely fastidious in remembering to lock the door. I grew up in a small rural town and we never locked our doors. In fact, the only people I knew who did had moved to town after living in Illinois. And they only locked their doors at night. Since moving to a college town back in '95 I’ve tried to get in the habit of locking the door, but it still seems foreign to me. I generally lock it when I’m home alone, before bed, and when leaving if I know I’ll be coming home to an empty apt. Recently, a friend of mine that lives in the same apt complex has taken to walking in without knocking, so I’ve been locking the doors more than usual. A part of me doesn’t want to admit that I live in a world where I HAVE to keep my door locked at all times, but I suppose now I will have to face facts.

Maureen: It’s a college town and school starts Monday. I’m sure he just got far too drunk at some party and wandered into the wrong apt.

5

Mirth, that would scare the crap out of me, but I’m sure he was totally confused as to where he was. By all means have a friend come over, or have Mr. Mirth come home. You need to get comfortable being in your own place again, and I think anyone would.

Just remember, the guy probably would be as startled as you, if anything beyond his brain stem was functioning. I remember a guy dying in Boulder. He was visiting a friend, got separated while trashed, and broke into the wrong house. (His besotted brain seem to think his friend was playing a trick on him.) He smashed the door down, and the scared owner stabbed him, and he died. Poor guy probably never knew he was in the wrong house.

It is one of the reasons I get so pissy when I travel. My wife is a wee little lass, my kids aren’t old enough to handle this, and I’m always afraid of things like this happening.

6

yep, that sounds very upsetting.

It really doesn’t matter if he ment you any harm or not (and I don’t think he did) but you are upset and you need to have someone with you. Call your friend. Wrap up in blankets and eat ice cream.

That is an order.

7

What indecisive1 said. And if you don’t have ice cream, chocolate is an acceptable substitute.

8

Yipes!

I had a moment like this. I live in a guest house on a rather secure gated property, and even though we’re in L.A., I’m pretty confident that we don’t need to lock our door except when we’re leaving all day.

I was home alone one night while the husband was gone for business, when all of a sudden, a woman I had never seen before walked right through my front door. I jumped out of my chair and screamed–probably scaring her more than she scared me. She turned tail and yelled, “I’m SORRY!” as she ran back out.

Apparently, she was a friend of a woman we were renting out a room to, and she obviously walked through the wrong door.

Boy, oh boy, did I start locking my door when I’m alone after that.

9

Yipes!

I had a moment like this. I live in a guest house on a rather secure gated property, and even though we’re in L.A., I’m pretty confident that we don’t need to lock our door except when we’re leaving all day.

I was home alone one night while the husband was gone for business, when all of a sudden, a woman I had never seen before walked right through my front door. I jumped out of my chair and screamed–probably scaring her more than she scared me. She turned tail and yelled, “I’m SORRY!” as she ran back out.

Apparently, she was a friend of a woman we were renting out a room to, and she obviously walked through the wrong door.

Boy, oh boy, did I start locking my door when I’m alone after that.

10

Thanks all! I have vacuumed my couches, cleaned my bathroom, showered and called my friend. I feel much better! Now I think I’m going to settle down with some comfort food and watch all three tapes of the A&E version of Pride and Prejudice.

And just in case there is any more trouble, I’ve dusted off my old 1920’s style Death Ray and am keeping it nearby.

11

My alcoholic uncle walked into the wrong house, went into a bedroom, lay down on the bed and passed out. Fortunately, the house he entered was just down the street from his own, and the people who lived there knew him. They let him sleep it off and it was the next morning that he quit drinking. Did it cold turkey, too, and stayed sober for the next thiry something years.

12

::Looks at thread title, looks at OP::

:confused:

You have 2 couches in your kitchen?
This used to happen quite frequently in military barracks I lived in. It wasn’t uncommon to hear the door open in the middle of the night, hear someone stumbling around drunk, mutter “Dammit”, then stumble back out. Of course, I knew all these people so it wasn’t much of a big deal.

13

The thread title is a quote from Sommersby, but my kitchen and living room are basically one big room. That’s apartment living for ya.

14

I once entered the wrong house! But it was the middle of the afternoon, and I was wide awake and not under the influence of anything.

I was following a friend’s car. I was going to visit his home and family for the first time. I knew the street but wasn’t sure about the address. We got separated a bit. I turned onto his street and saw his empty parked car, so obviously he had already gone in. I parked behind his car. It was summer and the front door of the house he had parked in front of was wide open (with a closed screen door), so I just walked in. Some people were in the front room, and I said “Hi, I’m rowrrbazzle, Joe’s friend”. They said, “Joe who?” “Um, this is the X residence, right?” “No, they live next door!” I apologized profusely and left.

15

I heard a guy trying to get into my apartment one night.

It was a townhouse, and my bedroom window was directly over the front door. I poked my head out the window, and looked down, and the guy was certainly not one of my roommates, or anyone I knew. He kept diddling with his key chain, trying to find the right key.

I looked at him again. He didn’t even look like any of my neighbors. Who WAS this clown, anyway?

I called down, “Who are you?”

Surprised, he looked up. In looking up, he overbalanced, and nearly fell off the porch on his butt. In this way, I deduced that he was quite drunk.

“Who’re YOU?” he called back. Plainly, he was drunk, but had not lost any knack he might have had for witty responses.

“I live here. Why are you trying to get into my house?”

“S’not YOUR house,” he said, sounding a little offended. “Izz MY house.” He got back to his feet again, and began trying to find the right key on his ring again.

“Man, this isn’t your house,” I said.

The guy paid no attention, and tried a couple more keys.

“THIS ISN’T YOUR HOUSE, GUY!” I shouted at him.

He looked up at me in mild irritation. “Whadda you care?” he said petulantly. “You upztairz. Not your house. Whadda you care?”

“This is a townhouse,” I said. “You are trying to get into the downstairs part of my apartment. And if you don’t beat it, I’m gonna call the cops.”

Bud Man made a dismissive gesture with his hand, and went back to trying to unlock my front door again. By now, my roommates had wandered in to see who I was talking to. I told them to call the cops, pronto, since I had no clue what the guy would do if he managed to get into the living room. Rocket Boy glanced out the window, got a look at Bud Man, and then padded into the hall to get the phone. The Creature went into his bedroom, came out with a Louisville Slugger, and went downstairs to sit on the couch.

Bud Man tried a few more keys, and began rattling the doorknob in frustration.

“Look, man,” I said, trying not to sound too confrontational. “None of those keys are going to work. You are trying to get INTO the WRONG HOUSE!”

“Oh, YEAH?” he snarled, looking up at me again, and staggering a bit, as the shift in perspective overbalanced him again. He caught his balance, thrust an accusing finger at me, and shouted, “How do YOU know YOU aren’t looking OUTTA the wrong house?”

I opened my mouth to reply… and then shut it again. Huh? It took me a minute to work out the logic of what he was saying. I opened my mouth again… and shut it again. I had been utterly bumfuzzled by Drunken Logic. How DO you prove you aren’t in the wrong house to a drunk who’s quite certain you are?

Well, you don’t. Bud Man took my silence as an admission of guilt, pasted a big “gotcha good” grin of satisfaction on his face, and went back to trying to unlock my front door.

A few minutes later, the cops showed up, and collected him. He got a bit snippy with them regarding whose house it was; Creature let the cops in and showed them a copy of the lease and some ID, which made them instantly lose interest in us.

Bud Man, however, was much more fun, as he apparently got a little shirty with one of the cops when they refused to throw these rotten college kids out of HIS house. Shortly thereafter, Bud Man, in handcuffs, was shoveled into the back of the police cruiser, swearing that when he saw the judge, he’d be back, and we had damn well better be out of his house!

…and that was the last we ever saw of him.

Rocket Boy came up with some interesting ideas for electrified doorknobs after that…

16

Wang Ka—what a colorful story! And you tell it so masterfully! :smiley:

Wise choice. Pride and Prejudice is always a good idea in times like this. Glad to see that I’m not the only one. :wink: