My roomie and I were talking about life, love, success, food, old friends, sweat pants, basically anything and everything, when we heard a pounding at our door.
First – it was about midnight.
Second – we rarely get visitors without pre-planning.
We live in one of those apartment complex’s where there’s no lobby or indoor hallway. We’re set up like a motel surrounded by trees. Basically, our building really wanted to become an edgy cabin but failed in its execution. Our apartment is on the top-level in the corner where our door and the neighbors form a perfect 90 degree angle. Now, since they get more visitors than us, we normally assume that the banging is on their door. Tonight the knocking was for us …
I went up to the door first and peered through the peep-hole. I saw a stout man about my height, wearing a seashell choker necklace (very 90s of him), and knocking on the door in a fist-pumping-Jersey-Shore-fashion. He then began to repeat the phrase, “Open up” several times. Quickly, I motioned for my roomie. She hesitantly made her way towards the peep-hole.
You see, my roomie has an unusual fear of leaning up against doors, windows, and things of a similar nature in high pressure situations. When she was a kid she watched Scream (the original). The bathroom scene, where the girl leans up against the stall to try to hear what’s going on only to end up with a knife in her head, has left a residual worry in my roomie’s heart that she too could end up with a knife in the head. Anyways, she didn’t recognize him either.
Then he left.
About 5 minutes later he came back doing the exact same thing, yelling at us to open up, banging on the door like an angry man whom we had somehow wronged.
Then he left.
We were freaking out, ALL my roomie wanted to do was get her laundry, but we were both not comfortable with the her going outside alone or us leaving the apartment unattended. Eventually we called the campus police, who transferred us to the city police, who took our report and said that a police officer was going to stop by. I threw my hands up to my face slightly chuckling at the whole ordeal, I really didn’t want to deal with police. My roomie kept on saying how bad she’d feel if he just had the wrong apartment or something, but maybe now she could have an escort to the laundry room.
I’ve never been hesitant when looking through my window or peep-hole until tonight. I moved with caution, I felt like Simba during the scene in The Lion King where Mufasa teaches him how to pounce, quiet, steady, steady.
He never came back. Maybe he gave up or maybe he found his friends.
Then the police never showed up.
Oh, we got a phone call, saying that an officer circled and didn’t see anybody lurking. But, they NEVER asked what he looked like. I find that highly peculiar, I would think they would want to know who they were looking for so that some poor Joe smoking a cigarette or hanging out on the lawn wouldn’t become a suspect of creeping around our apartment. All they knew was that a man scared us.
I don’t think I’m in danger, I found the whole thing creepy, and I’m disappointed in the police officers who didn’t even bother to see if we were safe or okay.