I'm one of those people who has things happen to her that don't happen to anyone else. I attract the madness. Of course, I also AM the madness, so I'm sure that's part of the problem. My bff, Carmen, finds these happenings to be an endless source of amusement. If you know the following story, then you either know Carmen, or you know someone who knows Carmen. I understand that she has told this story on buses, and as a professor, she has probably told her students. Good thing I love her.
When I was in grad school, I was put in a dorm room for someone with a hearing impairment. I realize most graduate students don't live in the dorms, but it worked for me for a year. Anyway, my room had a door bell outside that would buzz and make a light flash in the room. People who came to see me in the dorms liked pushing the button. (Why is it that grown people like to push buttons?)
One night, at around 3am (ok, technically that's morning, but I was sleeping AND it was dark, so I think we can all agree to call it "night") someone braniac decided to make toast or something else that involved burning food beyond all recognition. If you've ever lived in a dorm, you know what happened next....the fire alarm went off.
Because of my oh-so-special room, I had my own fire alarm AND an attached strobe light, which happened to be directly over my bed. So I'm enjoying my REMs, and suddenly I'm in a disco with very bad music with no beat.
I don't sleep in more than a tshirt and underwear, so I thought it would be wise to grab some pants and perhaps grab my glasses (without which I am as blind as a bat -- see the irony in living in the disco room for the hearing impaired?) I get my feet through the leg holes of my sweat pants, can't find my glasses (screw it), and race through the fire tower. As I'm running, I noticed that the string seems to be out of my sweat pants, and they are very loose. No matter, I am running for my life! Toast is afire!
You may have noticed that I wrote that I only grabbed my sweat pants. So not only am I blind (as a bat without my glasses!), I also don't have a key to my suite. I'm locked out.
Some time has passed, so other grad students have gathered around me, sitting next to me, leaning against the walls, and generally looking very dazed. I look down, pretending not to notice the various sleeping attire everyone had chosen, when a hole caught my eye. A hole in my sweat pants, right in the crotchal region. Gee, that's a pretty big hole. Almost as big as my head! I should really throw these out.
I then notice that the leg holes in the sweats are knit-ribbed, not elasticized. Hmm. That's interesting. I don't remember sweat pants like this.
Then a very dim lightbulb comes on. That is not a hole in my sweatpants. That is the neck hole for the sweatshirt I am now wearing on my legs. I have my legs in the arms. And I am locked out of my room on the 19th floor of a dormitory.
I had to walk 19 floors to the front desk in this get up and request a key. Normally you need an ID to request a key, but I guess they figured no one would come out from the street dressed like this, so they gave me the key. I did change before returning said key. I have *some* dignity.
Now you all know why I think it's always a good time for a nap. When you are napping, no one sees you wearing your sweatshirt as pants.