"Worst way to wake up" contest.

We’ve all been woken up in a way that bodes less than well for the rest of our day. But, I wonder - who has the best story to tell?

The reason for posting this is, basically, half an hour ago, the lock on my room clicked open . . . That is, at 9:30 AM on a Sunday in a college dorm. Expecting my drunk roomate to finally come staggering back to roll up in a heap and throw up all over my laundry, I was a bit confused at the music.

That is, until all ten members of the marching band came fully into my room in their Civil War-inspired uniforms and started playing Europe’s most famous “Final Countdown” around my bed. (Ah yes, they assured me they’d saved the best song for me.)

So, that is, 9:30 wake-up call by a tuba/sax/trumpet/horn/alt-horn/big drum/guitar/violin and two starling vocals after a night of heavy, heavy drinking. Top that!

(Pics or it’s all lies? Here you go: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=BZQoFCE0UMQ)

I don’t know if I can top that story, but I’ve got a disturbing story, nonetheless. About ten years ago I was living down south and came home for an extended holiday visit. I spent a couple weeks sleeping on my uncles couch, during which time my seven year old cousin woke me up every morning by standing in front of me and staring at me. Talk about creepy. I’d open my eyes and there he was. Standing there. Staring at me. I didn’t know that feeling like you’re being watched penetrated your sleep, but it did, and it was enough to wake me up. Every morning. For two weeks.

Creepy kid.

I was woken up about a year ago when a semi-naked girl burst through my door.

This was a worst since she only stayed long enough to burst out the instant I said something. :wink:

And of course then I figured there was pretty good odds that someone would be back to check on things, so I had to wait up until the police showed and asked me what all I knew.

Months later I finally found out that apparently someone had broken into her place from the veranda, she’d ran out into the hall, and then tried to hide in my place. I guess I was just fortunate/unfortunate enough to have forgotten to lock my door that night.

Fun in apartment living…

Not the best way to wake up…

When I was twenty, I was packing up my student room to go home for the summer. It entailed a train journey the length of England, and I had to get to the station by about 5am, so my mother offered to call me to make sure I was awake.

As it happened, I was awake, just, when the phone rang downstairs, but as I staggered down and answered it, my mother didn’t even greet me, just said “Don’t come home, your grandfather’s dead.”

I just stood there - shocked. He was not ill, and not that old (78). We lived right in the far south of England and they lived about two and a half hours away from where I was at college. So having collected myself, I just took all my stuff to the station anyway, and was at my grandmother’s house by 8am, which turned out to be a good thing as my parents couldn’t get there till the next evening.

My mother apologised wholeheartedly for the way she’d told me. It was just that he’d died at about midnight, and they’d been on the phone all night with my grandmother and aunts, trying to get stuff sorted out from hundreds of miles away, unable to move or do anything concrete until daylight. So by the time she called me, she was both exhausted and used to the idea and she’d forgotten that I didn’t know anything about it.

Still, I will never forget that wake up call…

We were staying at my sister’s place and about 2 or 3 am, the smoke alarm went off. The house was full of smoke, so it wasn’t just a glitch. We dragged the kids out to the van and my husband and BIL put the fire out. They’d cleaned their fireplace, and thinking the ashes were cold, they tossed them into a cardboard box…

Fortunately, damage was confined to a section of carpet, the vertical blinds, and my BIL’s hands when he grabbed the burning box to throw it outside. And since my mom lived nearby, we headed over there after the firemen left.

So, yeah, rude awakening.

My best friend’s sister had just gotten married and we were staying at the bride’s house on the wedding night. BF and her family and I got home late after the reception and were very surprised when the burglar alarm went off just after we’d all finally crawled into bed.

The dog went crazy, we figured out it was the groom’s brother, and before anyone had enough time to think, the phone was ringing. It was the alarm company and, of course, none of us had a clue about what secret phrase we were supposed to give them.

Shortly thereafter, the cops arrived.

We had to call the bride and groom at their hotel to find out how to authenticate ourselves to both the company and the cops.

You’d think that would be the end of it, right? Well, you’d be wrong.

Early morning, the alarm went off again. I don’t remember why, but groom’s brother had stopped by again and set it off - once more. At least this time we knew to run to the alarm and enter the code.

On top of everything else, I had just developed laryngitis (my voice started to fade during the reception) and felt like crap.

Oh, yeah, that was a fun night. But memorable.

GT

Prague. 4am. Cold War days. Two cops rousting me off the park bench I was sleeping on.

What have you done to deserve such grand (mis)treatment? :smiley:

My boyfriend occasionally wakes up yelling in fright. Of course I wake up and help calm him down, and he always goes back to sleep right away and has no memory of it the next morning, but it’s always a bad way to wake up. There was one time that I must’ve been a bit groggy myself when he yelled, or in the midst of a dream or something, because I woke up and saw what looked like the silhouette of a man standing over me next to our bed. I screamed, my boyfriend yelled, I screamed, he yelled. I think he finally came round first and started to calm me down, at which point I realized that I was looking at the full-length mirror I have leaning against the wall.

The question reminded me of the movie The Missouri Breaks. Marlon Brando wakes up to Jack Nicholson slitting his throat. His day goes downhill from there, rapidly.

Mr. S and I once woke up to copious amounts of canine diarrhea all over the bedroom carpet. (Fortunately the dog in question was not in the habit of getting up on the bed. . . .)

Very recently I was in Hawaii on work. I was lucky enough to stay in a room that was like 20 steps from the beach, so I got the treat of leaving my windows open, falling asleep in the balmy temperatures with the sound of the ocean breaking onto the beach…

It was so lovely. Right up until the 5am phone call which told me that my house, all of 6,000 miles away, was on fire.

(Happy ending: it wasn’t.)

Middle of the night, my mom is visiting from out of town and my kitten decides to see if she can make it from the floor to the cd rack 4 feet up on the wall. She can, but it doesn’t hold her weight.
CRASH!! I bolt from the bedroom to the living room to find all my cd’s in various states of smashy smashy. I’d made that cd rack from scrap wood myself even, I was very proud of it.

My friend took her pug to her parents house for Thanksgiving one year. Being a cute little pug everyone wanted to fed when her when she begged. The pug got way more turkey and other Thanksgiving food than she could handle.

What does this have to do with waking up? Well, my friend always slept with the pug in her bed. The next morning, just before dawn, she woke up to the pug standing next to her head with pug vomit all over her face.

Worst? Probably waking up in the hospital with a big chunk bitten out of the side of your tongue.

Not so worst? Having your cat puke on you in the middle of the night.

January 17, 1994, Los Angeles. There’s nothing quite like being woken up in the darkest dark you’ve ever seen in a city because the power went out because of a big earthquake which is really freaking scary wondering if the house is going to collapse and kill you. Or being afraid that it would collapse and not kill you.

There’s also the half-awake step into cold cat puke, but the earthquake was far scarier.

I remember seeing clips of a Japanese game show in which they would haul a full-sized cannon (!) into someone’s house and fire it off to wake them up.

My personal worst way to wake up? 4:31 a.m., Jan. 17, 1994. Northridge. I was about 10 miles from the epicenter as the crow flies. There’s nothing like waking up listening to everything in your house crashing down around you while hoping the whole house itself doesn’t fall apart. And I also learned how much noise a broken gas line makes, courtesy of the neighbors’ line snapping off, so we had to evacuate our house immediately till some other kind neighbors got it shut off. Yeah, that was a fun morning. :rolleyes:

ETA: Dammit, whiterabbit, great minds think alike! (I’m her mother, in case you all didn’t know.)

I got woken up by what was probably an obscene phone call this morning.

Phone: Brrrrring!

I pick up.

Hello?

Voice on phone, breathy: Hi.

I hang up in disgust.

January 16, 1994 I was in Phoenix for an SCCA race. Drove home and fell into bed at 12:30AM
Exactly 4 hours later I awoke thinking at first a car hit my house, then when it didn’t stop, I thought it must be an airplane, then a train. (Tracks are 2 blocks away). Then finally I woke enough to realize FUCKING EARTHQUAKE.
I rolled over to cover and protect my wife who was screaming and waited for it to end.
I live about 6-7 miles from the epicenter.
Rico the mod lived even closer and had some houses burn down in his neighborhood.

About 5 years ago, we had owned our middle cat for about 2 weeks when he decided that jumping off the bookshelves on the balcony by the stairs would be fun at 2 am. The (completely full) bookshelves dumped over, crashing down the stairs and making a racket like I’ve never heard before or since.

I knew he’d be fine, as he’s a cat and could jump away without too much hassle. This was my husband’s first cat (he’s a dog guy) and was convinced that he was going to move piles of books and find “squished kitty”. Kitty was fine and is going medieval on the ring from the top of a gallon of milk on the floor in front of me now. Hubby never quite got over that morning, though.

The worst way to wake up, though, is to tornado sounds. A few years back the storm had hit the power transformer to all of the sirens in town so there was no warning, and then hit our house (just a microburst, thankfully, but still scary as hell). Then, after the worst of the storm passed, another was headed our way, so cops were going through the streets with bullhorns warning people to get to shelter. It was like a zombie movie.