Give me back my pants!

Yes,  I have actually heard that sentence and here’s the story behind it:

Yesterday I kind of outlined my living situation for my last term in university. I lived in a big house with four other early 20-something’s all going to university. I had the bedroom right at the front of the house. My windows overlooked the street out front and the driveway.

I loved that room – it was easy to just slip in and out because I was right by the front door, because I had windows on two walls I was able to get a breeze through my room when it was summer and we didn’t have air conditioning, if I kept my door open (which I usually did if the horrible cat wasn’t around) I could grab conversations with anyone coming in/going out, or just coming down the stairs. Two girls and one guy lived upstairs, and the two girls were best friends since there were born. They had adopted a cat together. A beautiful long-haired cat. She loved my room too since she could sit in the windows and enjoy the breeze and look at the outside world.

The guy who lived with us was the youngest out of all of us. He also had to be spoken to a few times to make sure he knew it wasn’t ok to walking around in his underwear. Some sort of pants was required for all people at all times. After that was settled, the four of us became fast friends! He also was very protective of all of us girls, he had studied Krav Maga and boasted about his ability to take down anyone who was a threat – mostly that claim came out when we were all at the bar and he was a few shots in.

Anyway – back to my story:

So one night during the early summer, he had gone home to visit his family so it was just the girls in the house. The three of us (plus the one we didn’t like) were all sleeping when about 2am there came a HUGE pounding at the door. Before I had time to get out of my room, the two from upstairs were already down and making sure everything was ok. I came out to see J standing on the stairs: one foot firmly planted on a step and the other on the front door, where the pounding was still happening. She also had her Maglite flashlight turned on and aimed right at the window in the door (she was training to be a police officer. Add that to A’s Krav Maga and we were all set).

S was already on the phone with the police. And then it started – the drunken slurs from the other side of the door “GUYS!!! This isn’t funny!!! Let me in!! You have my pants!! Give me back my pants!!”

S relayed this information to the police on the phone and eventually, through the drunken yells from outside, we got the full story:

Blue Boxers (as he was known after that night) had had a little bit too much to drink at a frat house one street over. He thought our house was the house where he was supposed to be at, the one that had his pants. It was literally right around the corner and could be seen from our front porch, he just walked right past it and got to our house instead of his.

The police arrived about 30 minutes later and got Blue Boxers to calm down and set him straight. I’m not sure if he was allowed to just go home or what, but after the police got our statements, we were in a quiet house once more.

Everyone headed back to bed, and about fifteen minutes later I was just about to fall into sleep when there was another loud bang! This time from inside my room since the beautiful cat had decided to hid under my bed when my door was open. It was her normal hiding place for all loud noises. I released her and went back to sleep.

A was severely upset when he arrived home the next afternoon to hear that he missed all the commotion, and his chance to protect all the ladies in the house haha.