From the Book I've Been Dabbling In For, Like, Forever
Sept. 17, 1993
I didn't write an entry yesterday because, aside from the usual classes, I didn't have much to write about. Today, however, I have a doozy to relate.
After my fencing class, I caught the bus back to Lourdes, showered, and fell in for a much needed nap. I figured I had, at least, two hours of deep slumber to indulge in.
Well, about halfway into my nap, and a nice little dream involving me, Cindy Crawford, a clown, and a stellar orgasm. Okay, there was no orgasm (and truthfully, no clown), because before I could attain that wondrous state, the most God-awful music ever to assail the ears came blaring from across the hallway from the room of Wuss 1 and Wuss 2.
I'm a happy person. A laid back person. A person you would like to meet and probably trust with your children should you go away for awhile and need a babysitter. There are, however, two things you should know. Number 1: do not wake me up unless you have a damn good reason. You will regret this. Number 2: if I'm having a Cindy Crawford nocturnal emission, there is no such thing as a damn good reason. If you see me sleeping and I have a smile that spreads from ear to ear, and my blankets appear to be hovering mysteriously around the groin area, you should let me sleep.
Thus, when I was awakened by a blaring stereo, the good-natured Ryan Rhodes you would be pleased to meet was nowhere to be found. Instead, I was filled with blind rage. There could have been two little old ladies listening to Big Band music and I still would have ripped into them.
As it was, I stormed across the hall into the room of Wuss 1 and Wuss 2 (their door is always fucking open), and I let loose a string of expletives that had the resident assistant running down the hall to find out what was wrong. Wuss 1 got right into my face and started screaming back at me.
"It's fucking 10:30 in the morning, you fucking wussy!" he shouted. "We can play any fucking music we want! Go back to your fucking room and shut up!"
"You'll turn that music down right now, or I swear I'll toss that stereo and all your speakers off this third floor and won't think twice about it!" I responded, throwing in a good chest push on Wuss 1 to augment my point.
"Ooooh, big fucking words, asshole!" he said, pushing back. "You don't see anyone else upset about the music do you? Go fuck yourself!"
With that, I sprinted down the hallway, knocking on 12 dorm room doors. Eventually, 16 people emerged from nine rooms, including the greasy guy I yelled at on the bus two days ago (he has since trimmed himself up and looks respectable) and I asked them to join me outside of Wuss 1 and Wuss 2's room.
"Who here is really annoyed by the music coming from the dorm room of these two monumental assholes?!" I asked the bewildered throng.
As proof that I'm probably the luckiest son of a bitch ever, everyone raised their hand, including Mr. Greasy, although I think he was just stunned that I was mad enough to rally half the dorm wing wearing nothing but a pair of boxer shorts with a smiley face on them. Like I said, don't wake me up during a wet dream. Ever.
Confronted with a unanimous vote, and a resident assistant now aligning himself with my superior numbers, Wuss 1 and Wuss 2 capitulated to my demands. My demands were as follows:
"Now, turn that fucking thing down, for now and forever, and if I ever have to come out of my room again because your music is too loud, I'll wake the entire fucking dorm to make my point. Thank you all, for coming out to support me. I'm going back to sleep."
I stood there, locking eyes with Wuss 1 as the rest of the crowd disbanded.
"You just made a major fucking enemy today, wussy," warned Wuss 1 as if I cared.
"Yes, and I'm sure you're a real threat to me," I retorted. "Go crawl back with your little buddy there and engage in whatever ass sex you two dabble in. And keep the music down."
I went back to into my room, certain that I had made the biggest mistake of my infant college career. I was about to crawl back into bed when there was a knock at the door. I swallowed hard, grabbed the doorknob, and swung open the heavy metal door, fully believing I was about to suffer the most insane ass kicking of my life. Instead, I was greeted by Mr. Greasy who was standing there grinning with his hand extended.
"Dude, that was the coolest thing I've ever seen anyone do," he marveled as I shook his hand. "I really, really want to party with you some time."
"Oh, um, look me up this weekend," I responded, somewhat blown away. "Sorry about the whole thing on the bus a couple days ago."
"No you're not," he said smiling. "But, you got me thinking. Besides, it's a good policy to keep crazy people like you on my side."
With that, we shook hands again, and I went back to sleep.
After that, the rest of my day was gravy.
Posted by Ryan at September 23, 2002 11:18 AM
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