Occasionally, when there is nothing fun to write about in current times, I try to think back to any interesting stories from my life. I generally never find one because I’ve been generally boring my entire life. This morning I did remember a scary day from my college years.
My junior year in college I was a resident janitor at the Baptist Student Union. I traded mediocre to bad janitorial skills for free rent in the basement apartment in the building. My memory of what happened before that day is fuzzy because that day takes over my entire memory of the events, but I’m pretty sure earlier in the week a car had been stolen from our parking lot during our weekly service. I know we were doing penny wars during that time and the jars of money were sitting out that night. It’s possible the people involved in the stolen car saw the money and decided to come back another time. Now, we move to the other time, the event I remember vividly.
My roommate had gone home for the weekend. I was alone in the building and in my apartment in the basement. I heard what sounded like glass breaking and went out in the hall to investigate. I saw a brick in the floor in the classroom across the hall and multiple shadows outside the window and one shadow coming through the shades. I got back to my apartment as fast as I could without alerting them to my presence, called the police and sat by my door with a baseball bat. I’m not sure how long all of this took place. It seemed like it was hours, it was probably less than one hour. I sat by the door and listened to footsteps outside my door and above me on the main floor. I was sure at any minute someone was going to bust through my door. There was no sign of a police response.
I finally went back to the phone and decided to try to remember the number of the people I knew across the street. I’m not sure if I ever remembered their number. I was scared and it was hard to think straight. For some reason, I did remember the number for the fraternity next door I had been to some parties there my first two years in school and knew some people who lived there. I called over, told them what was happening and asked if they could see if the police were around anywhere. They did more than that. When they heard what was happening, they grabbed things that could be used as weapons and headed over to help. The people in the building fled at that point. Eventually, there was a knock at my door. I didn’t answer until the person identified themselves as my friend from across the street. I left the building to find the police were finally there as were my friends and several frat guys from next door. The police had apparently driven through the parking lot, thought things looked OK and left. Who knows what might have happened had I not known the number of the frat house next door. I do know that I don’t recall being that scared again.
If I remember correctly, the people involved were arrested after they crashed the car and fled while leaving papers(report card, maybe?) with their name on it in the car.
Some of the stories from before and after the event might be wrong. I’m old and forgetful.