Last night I lay awake listening to the drunken voices of multiple parties around my apartment. It was nearly 2:00 a.m., but I didn't feel like calling the cops.
"It's the first weekend of the semester," I thought. "Surely these undergraduates are entitled to one evening of noisy fun."
Then one voice rose in prominence above the others. One partygoer had decided to hold a loud phone conversation outside my bedroom window.
I was fed up. I went to the window and slid it open quickly.
"Excuse me," I said.
But before I could finish with, "I'm trying to sleep," the silhouetted male said, "sorry."
"Thanks," I said, trying to sound angry and sleepy all at once (this was not difficult).
It wasn't until after I got back in bed that I understood the ramifications of his phone conversation.
"Dude, I have to p*ss so bad"
and then,
"No, one-handed! One-handed!"
I'm not sure at what stage of the game I confronted this individual. All I can say is thank goodness I didn't have the light on.
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