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Background: I work in the office of my apartment complex. It's a nice-ish property and we don't usually see much of the police department, but they did pay us a visit recently. I witnessed none of these incidents myself first hand, but did get accounts from those who were there.
A relatively recent move-in – young guy with white-collar job – is partying at the bar next door with two friends. They get schnockered and begin to behave badly, enough so that they are banned from the bar. For life. Which is a pretty big achievement, because this bar is a total dive. On their way out of the bar they begin hitting parked cars in the lot with their fists, a brilliant idea because the bar's clientele can get a little rough – a prominent local biker gang has made it their number one hangout, for instance. Amazingly, the bartender shoos them off the property before they are pummeled beyond recognition.
They stumble back to the resident's apartment. The resident, who we'll call R, and one friend, J, go inside to crash, while the other friend, C, heads back to his car. Apparently C had enough sense to decide not to drive home in his inebriated state because he returned about fifteen minutes later. By this time R is asleep in his room and J is passed out on the living room couch. C stands on the patio and commences to bang on the sliding glass door, attempting to get the attention of his friend on the couch a few yards away. He begins yelling J's name on top of his lungs. This naturally attracts the attention of our night patrol guy, who lives on the property and knows everyone. Patrol Guy, who happens to be one of my favorite people ever, decides to tell him that there is nobody living there named J and that he needs to go. As he heads towards the apartment to speak with the gentleman, C drops trou and blasts a dookie on the pebbles in front of the apartment. Patrol Guy, who is quite huge, tells him at this point that he is leaving the property, under no uncertain terms. C looks PG dead in the eye, drops his keys into the bowel movement, and announces, “I ain't goin' nowhere.”
C then turns around and breaks the glass on the patio door and, miraculously not severing any major arteries, reaches in and unlocks the door and opens it. As he begins to step inside, he remembers his keys and picks them up. He wipes his hand along the wall
and steps inside. PG wastes no time in calling the police.
When the police arrive, R and J are still passed out, while C is washing his hands in the bathroom. J had brought a huge dog over – one more thing to write R up for, since we keep pet permits and visiting pets are very much not allowed – and, wanting to avoid trouble, grabbed the visiting pet and put him safely into the back of the patrol car. The police begin yelling through he shattered patio door to try and wake up whoever is in there, but everyone is too far gone to wake up. They are just about to release the dogs, who are in full attack mode because PG of course has reported the break-in as a probable burglary with the suspect still inside, when J wakes up. He doesn't realize what has woken him up at first, just notices his dog is gone.
At the point when R wakes up a few minutes later and stumbles out into the living room in his underwear, J is sitting on the steps sobbing because he thinks his dog ran away, C is washing human feces off his arms in the bathroom, and the police are letting themselves into the living room, which is covered in shattered glass, with weapons drawn and attack dogs primed.
I really wish I had been the one who got to write up the non-compliance notice for that one!
A relatively recent move-in – young guy with white-collar job – is partying at the bar next door with two friends. They get schnockered and begin to behave badly, enough so that they are banned from the bar. For life. Which is a pretty big achievement, because this bar is a total dive. On their way out of the bar they begin hitting parked cars in the lot with their fists, a brilliant idea because the bar's clientele can get a little rough – a prominent local biker gang has made it their number one hangout, for instance. Amazingly, the bartender shoos them off the property before they are pummeled beyond recognition.
They stumble back to the resident's apartment. The resident, who we'll call R, and one friend, J, go inside to crash, while the other friend, C, heads back to his car. Apparently C had enough sense to decide not to drive home in his inebriated state because he returned about fifteen minutes later. By this time R is asleep in his room and J is passed out on the living room couch. C stands on the patio and commences to bang on the sliding glass door, attempting to get the attention of his friend on the couch a few yards away. He begins yelling J's name on top of his lungs. This naturally attracts the attention of our night patrol guy, who lives on the property and knows everyone. Patrol Guy, who happens to be one of my favorite people ever, decides to tell him that there is nobody living there named J and that he needs to go. As he heads towards the apartment to speak with the gentleman, C drops trou and blasts a dookie on the pebbles in front of the apartment. Patrol Guy, who is quite huge, tells him at this point that he is leaving the property, under no uncertain terms. C looks PG dead in the eye, drops his keys into the bowel movement, and announces, “I ain't goin' nowhere.”
C then turns around and breaks the glass on the patio door and, miraculously not severing any major arteries, reaches in and unlocks the door and opens it. As he begins to step inside, he remembers his keys and picks them up. He wipes his hand along the wall
and steps inside. PG wastes no time in calling the police. When the police arrive, R and J are still passed out, while C is washing his hands in the bathroom. J had brought a huge dog over – one more thing to write R up for, since we keep pet permits and visiting pets are very much not allowed – and, wanting to avoid trouble, grabbed the visiting pet and put him safely into the back of the patrol car. The police begin yelling through he shattered patio door to try and wake up whoever is in there, but everyone is too far gone to wake up. They are just about to release the dogs, who are in full attack mode because PG of course has reported the break-in as a probable burglary with the suspect still inside, when J wakes up. He doesn't realize what has woken him up at first, just notices his dog is gone.
At the point when R wakes up a few minutes later and stumbles out into the living room in his underwear, J is sitting on the steps sobbing because he thinks his dog ran away, C is washing human feces off his arms in the bathroom, and the police are letting themselves into the living room, which is covered in shattered glass, with weapons drawn and attack dogs primed.
I really wish I had been the one who got to write up the non-compliance notice for that one!
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