It is 2:45AM on Monday morning as I write this. I've just recently had some unexpected company leave my doorstep and I was going to simply go to bed, but I felt I must relate this brief tale so that I'd not forget it. Now, don't be fooled into thinking "unexpected" means "welcome", because that is not the case today. The reason for the lack of welcome is not because it was an old friend that I had a falling out with. Nor was it someone I didn't especially like. It was just simply someone I had never met.
As people who know me might tell you, I tend to attract odd and/or uncomfortable situations. Sadly this incident did not break that tradition.
I was JUST laying in my bed attempting to go to sleep early (yes, early; I have a very odd work schedule) because of the rather rough past few days I've had which I assured myself only the sweet embrace of slumber could fix when it all went down. There came a very light tapping at the door. Looking at my clock, I assumed that it had to be my imagination. Yet there again I heard it, but slightly louder. I assumed it had to be a friend of mine out and about, perhaps in need of a ride because of automobile trouble, simply because the knock said to me it could only be a friend who wanted my help but was slightly hesitant to wake me, yet not enough so that they'd be completely put off. My friends will tell you that I'm a fine person to come to for the odd 5AM ride. They better anyway, as many rides as I've given some of them for rather ridiculous reasons.
At this point I got rather pumped up. Unexpected, early morning friend visits! That could only mean one thing; Waffle House time. Alas, it was not to be.
What I found through my peep hole was not any of my friends. No shaved, hat covered heads that I've seen before. No shaggy mops with thick rimmed glasses covering a familiar face. What I saw was a rather stout, tall black lady might have actually been white, but had so many tattoos I couldn't tell for certain. It was like trying to guess the whole zebra "white horse with black stripes or black horse with white stripes" thing. Common sense would tell one to not open a door in these sort of situations. Yet I must sadly admit that my curiosity got the better of me by far. What if I'd won a million dollars? Or this was a long lost sister? The possibilities were too great to pass up. I'll tell you now that nothing could have been more of a let down than what actually happened short of getting shot in the face which I was, of course, also wary about. And no, not because she was white with black stripes, but because she was knocking on my door, given rather politely, at 2AM. And I wasn't really up for letting that happen. I'm pretty sensitive about getting shot in the face.
So I figured, what the hell, let's get that door! The first thing that went down made me think I was even more hideous than I've recently been lead to believe this week. When I opened the door, my dog shot out to see what all the row was about, but I didn't notice him do so. Now, I don't know if you've seen my dog in the pictures I've provided but - BAM - he's not exactly a terrifying beast. This lady freaked out. FREAKED out. If I could make "FREAKED" blink, I'd do so, but this isn't 1997. I want to be sure we are on the same page when I say "FREAKED", so let me give a description. When my dog came rocketing out, she threw herself as far away from him as she could, to the opposite corner of the hallway and let out the most ear piercing scream I've ever heard. If you awake to find your home's windows broken, you'll know why. And her face was honestly a face that has seen pure terror. My reaction didn't help either since I tried to get him back inside as fast as possible to calm her. I could have just simply said "he doesn't bite" and taken him inside, but I got caught up in the moment and got rather dramatic myself. Sadly, I didn't have the presence of mind to scream something like "OH GOD BUCKLEY NO!" to get her blood pumping.
And Ryan, if you're out there, the scream was even more out of control than my tank scream/fold up. I know you won't believe that, but there it is all the same.
Once my puppy was safely tucked away inside, and by the time I'd realized this would be no jolly time with some drop-in friends, I put on a fake "I've been asleep for five hours and am so tired it was like rising from the dead and just what the hell do you need at this unholy hour" faces and squinted my eyes then started talking in a very bleary voice. I smacked my lips as if to get them nice and wet so I could speak and inquired what it is she might be needing. It seems that in a rather heated dispute, her boyfriend had kicked her out of the car in the middle of nowhere. "Nowhere", according to her, anyway. I happen to live on one of the busiest streets I've ever seen. It seems he might have PHYSICALLY kicked her out because it was about that time I noticed she had a rather large gash on her leg and was kindly bleeding all over the carpet. A few completely ridiculous and, sadly, entirely true things passed through my mind at that point. They are listed as follows:
1) She using all this talk about being kicked out as a fake means to gain visual access to my apartment and case the joint. Why this went through my mind is a mystery as I live in about the last place you'd ever think to steal from.
2) Please don't kick me on the open wound I have on my arm with your bleeding foot.
3) This is like a horror movie where the girl fakes her real problem so she can hide in my apartment, rather than telling me that what was actually happening was a machete wielding nutjob had tried to cut her in half. And that never works out in favor of the guy who's position I am in.
One of these days a useful through will go through my head in these situations, but I'm not holding my breath. Basically her proposition was simple. Either let her use a phone to call a taxi or for me to give her a ride. She offered to pay me 20$ which would have almost been worth it since I found out she lived about 3 minutes away. But I decided I didn't want blood all in car. So I let her use the phone. She seemed rather shaken so, really, what was I to do? Maybe she wasn't in a horror movie after all, though I certainly seemed to be. When she saw that I choice to find the phone book for her to call a cab instead of take her myself, she again mentioned the 20$, to which I was forced to lie and claim that I had no car, while at the same time being all too aware of the jingle of my keys in the pocket of my pants that I had so hastily thrown on when I heard the door.
It took a mind-numbing 15 minutes before we were able to get a cab dispatched. It was partly because all the cabs seemed to be out, but it also didn't help that she didn't seem to understand the concept of road crossings. She asked me where my apartment complex was and I explained that it was on the corner of two certain streets. "But WHERE is it," she kept asking, no matter how clear I gave my answers. I started to think she was trying to ask me a deeper question that might cause me to reveal the meanings of life. "No, no, I mean WHO are we, man". Luckily for me the cab dispatcher on the phone was able to understand my cryptic comments about roads and apartment numbers and such.
I'll give it to her though. She was almost as grateful for my help as she was terrified when my dog jumped out at her. I was waiting for the much dreaded, "can I stay here until the cab arrives," question but thankfully it never happened. She DID ask to buy a sweater though, which I supplied her with, for no fee, because I'm nice like that. Hopefully she made it home in one piece. Even more hopefully, I hope she doesn't get stranded over here again and think, "I'll just stop by that sleepy boy's apartment who has the scary dog for some help".

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