Friday, September 24, 2010

Story Time

It's 8:15 on a Friday night.  Oktoberfest is kicking off just a mile away, but I will not be one of the inebriated ones unable to function without Ibuprofen tomorrow.  No, I have been looking forward to this weekend all month.  I have nothing scheduled.  No work, no photo shoots, and no traveling.  Instead, I'm thrilled to be organizing my life this weekend.  I came home from a class that let out early and did some unpacking, sorted out my massive collection of CDs, and realized I don't need to buy envelopes, Sharpies, or blank CD/DVDs for a LONG time.

I started catching up on wrapping up photo sessions that I've had pending.  In the process, I ordered Chinese, played a game of Tetris, and replied to some e-mails that have been sitting in my inbox far too long.  

Productivity is something I'm not quite used to, so I decided I had enough for one day.  So, here I am curled up in bed with my laptop and a nice warm mocha.  If my niece and nephews were here, I'd probably be telling them a story right now.  Since they are 165 miles away, I'll share some of my favorite stories on here.  Ones that probably wouldn't be appropriate for their age anyway...

So in honor of Oktoberfest, here are some of my most memorable moments living on the south side of La Crosse.

A Drunk Who Lost His Way

Once upon a time, I was living in a dive on 6th street right behind the Cass Street Kwik Trip.  My roommate at that time was gone to Milwaukee for the weekend and I was home alone.  It was about 3:00 AM when I heard the front door open.  Someone entered and went upstairs.  I assumed it was either my roommate, or one of his friends.

The next morning, I woke up and went on about my day.  It wasn't until the following day that my roommate had returned and I asked him if he had let anyone crash at our place over the weekend.  He said he had not and after a thorough sweep through the house, we decided it must have been some drunk who didn't know where he was. 

Three years later, I moved in with a group of girls and was telling them this story.  Wouldn't you know it... they knew the guy who got drunk and woke up in some house on 6th Street.  

The End.

Another Drunk Who Lost His Way ... to the Bathroom

Last February I moved in with some young college girls and it was not uncommon to pack 30 or more people into the apartment on a Friday or Saturday night.  My bedroom was connected to one of the bathrooms and also had an entry to the hallway.  During one of their parties, I actually fell asleep in the comfort of my own room - away from the beer bongs, wine, and shots.  I was brought to full attention out of a dead sleep when I realized one of the drunk guys was standing at my computer chair unbuckling his belt thinking he was standing at the toilet.  He realized he wasn't in the bathroom and stumbled out.  

Speaking of Bathrooms. . . 

When men drink, why is it the entire world is their toilet?  Back in the day when I used to run, I went out for an evening jog.  I was on State Street running when I heard water running.  When I looked at the house I was passing, there stood a college kid on the porch steps pissing on sidewalk.  Still pissing, we made eye contact and he actually said "Hello".  This is not the first time I've seen this here in the city of the World's Largest Six Pack.  I've seen many men freeing willy right on curbs, behind garbage bins, in bushes, or right on the lawn.    

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