Leg-wielding madmen
Two nights ago, my roommate's girlfriend had a slight mishap on her way over to our place. It seems she got a little confused and walked into the wrong apartment. This wouldn't have been so bad except the living room of the apartment she'd chosen featured a guy hanging out in his underwear. She was pretty embarrassed. I reassuringly told her that boxer-guy was probably excited by the incident.
She's in good company, however. Both my roommate and Ozzie have accidentally gone to the wrong apartment as well, if not actually entered it.
Ozzie's excuse is that he's just stupid. He's tried to get into the corresponding apartment in the next building over quite a few times. This is pretty unfortunate since he's freaked out by strangers and the outside world. The necessary outcome being that he yowls piteously (and very loudly) on the landing. I tried to rescue him and take him back to his real home on the most memorable of these occurrences. It was quite a challenge. A neighbor was chatting with the maintenance guy in the parking lot just across from the stairs, which was making Ozzie very uneasy. I could not calm him enough to carry him back to our apartment. He was convinced that I was wickedly trying to take him near the strangers and even more convinced that he was at his true home. How evil of me not to open the door and let him in! So he always managed to break free from me and dash back to the wrong apartment, even when I tried bundling him inside of my sweatshirt. (I got pretty scratched up in the attempts.) Finally the strangers finished their conversation, went away (only after I explained that the reason he thought that was his home was because he was stupid), and Ozzie allowed me to take him home.
My roommate's excuse is that he doesn't recognize our apartment ever since Pepe was stolen.
Both Ozzie and my roommate seem to have overcome their home-identification difficulties.
I think that I've only walked into the wrong room once (dashed into, really). This was back when I was a freshman at Stanford. A guy on my hall had a mannequin leg. It was one of those free-standing lower legs that are used to display pantyhose in department stores. Naturally, I was obsessed with and horrified by it. The guy kept trying to pawn it off on me, which I would have no part of. In the instance in question, he chased after me with the leg. I overshot my room, and burst into the next room down the hall. I quickly took in the fact that it was not my room, slammed the door, and bolted back to my room. Once the coast was clear, I went back to explain that I was being chased by a leg-wielding madman and apologize for disturbing them. Fortunately they were entertained rather than upset.
Leg-wielding madmen can be very frightening and can excuse all sorts of unusual behavior.
She's in good company, however. Both my roommate and Ozzie have accidentally gone to the wrong apartment as well, if not actually entered it.
Ozzie's excuse is that he's just stupid. He's tried to get into the corresponding apartment in the next building over quite a few times. This is pretty unfortunate since he's freaked out by strangers and the outside world. The necessary outcome being that he yowls piteously (and very loudly) on the landing. I tried to rescue him and take him back to his real home on the most memorable of these occurrences. It was quite a challenge. A neighbor was chatting with the maintenance guy in the parking lot just across from the stairs, which was making Ozzie very uneasy. I could not calm him enough to carry him back to our apartment. He was convinced that I was wickedly trying to take him near the strangers and even more convinced that he was at his true home. How evil of me not to open the door and let him in! So he always managed to break free from me and dash back to the wrong apartment, even when I tried bundling him inside of my sweatshirt. (I got pretty scratched up in the attempts.) Finally the strangers finished their conversation, went away (only after I explained that the reason he thought that was his home was because he was stupid), and Ozzie allowed me to take him home.
My roommate's excuse is that he doesn't recognize our apartment ever since Pepe was stolen.
Both Ozzie and my roommate seem to have overcome their home-identification difficulties.
I think that I've only walked into the wrong room once (dashed into, really). This was back when I was a freshman at Stanford. A guy on my hall had a mannequin leg. It was one of those free-standing lower legs that are used to display pantyhose in department stores. Naturally, I was obsessed with and horrified by it. The guy kept trying to pawn it off on me, which I would have no part of. In the instance in question, he chased after me with the leg. I overshot my room, and burst into the next room down the hall. I quickly took in the fact that it was not my room, slammed the door, and bolted back to my room. Once the coast was clear, I went back to explain that I was being chased by a leg-wielding madman and apologize for disturbing them. Fortunately they were entertained rather than upset.
Leg-wielding madmen can be very frightening and can excuse all sorts of unusual behavior.
posted by Meg at
2:17 PM
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