Given that it’s Halloween weekend and college students love to hear drinking stories, I thought I’d share one and let it be a lesson to you all.
My senior year I lived in an apartment with the Vals (I referred to them as Val #1 and Val #2). On Thursdays, Val#2 would go have a few drinks with friends and then go bowling. When she’d get home we’d hang out, have a snack and then I’d go to bed because I had class earlier than she did. On one of our final Thursdays Val#2 and I – Val#1 wasn’t home – were hanging out on the couch watching TV when I started to fall asleep. She told me one of her friends was coming over to watch a movie she had gotten from Netflix but that they could go in her room so they didn’t bother me. I said it didn’t matter either way and then went to my room.
I had been lying in bed for a few hours when I started to hear a steady knock at my door. For those that have ever watched The Big Bang Theory it was something similar to when Sheldon knocks on the door and is trying to get the attention of the person inside. “Stace” ::knock knock:: “Stace” ::knock knock:: “Stace” and so on. I got up and answered the door:
“There’s a guy on the couch.”
Now, knowing that the friend that was coming over was a male and that my dear roommate had been drinking that evening I didn’t see the problem, “And?”
“And I don’t know who he is.”
At this point my interest was piqued so I left my room to investigate. When I had asked about the friend in question, she told me that he had just left and she was brushing her teeth when she heard the door slam. When she went out to investigate, she discovered the mystery man. When I asked her how he got in, she said she hadn’t locked the door yet. As I stood against the wall staring at the sleeping stranger, I couldn’t help but think he looked like Val#1’s younger brother. On occasion, he would come and sleep on our couch when he needed to study for a test because freshmen pledges don’t get much sleep in Fraternity houses.
“I think it’s Dave,” I said.
“I don’t think so.”
“Are you sure?”
“Turn on the light.”
We turned on the light and inched closer to the mystery man’s face. He didn’t flinch, but we noticed that he had trekked mud on our carpet. I decided to call Val#1 and see if it really was her brother on our couch. For 1 a.m., I was surprised that she answered so quickly. I asked if she had given Dave her key or come and let him in and she said no. When she asked why I tried my best to explain the mystery man on our couch. We had determined that he was a lost drunk who had tried to find his way home and failed. Val#2 decided she was going to try to wake him up. When shaking him didn’t work, she tried bouncing. When bouncing didn’t work, she resorted to slapping. Not the tap-tap don’t-want-to-scare-him kind of slapping, I mean full out, “WHY ARE YOU ON MY COUCH,” kind of slapping. Which is exactly what she yelled in his face while she smacked him. She did this because his eyes were actually opening when she’d yell and then he’d pass out again.
Granted, slapping a drunk stranger in the face probably isn’t the safest route so we armed ourselves with a Maglite – all fathers buy their daughters heavy objects when sending them to school – and a bucket – in case he woke up vomiting instead of swinging. We figured if we could get him to wake up, we would just send him on his merry way with no harm done. Unfortunately this was not the case and we had to resort to other measures.