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We spray painted a shower curtain in this apartment. That probably wasn’t healthy.

July 7th, 2013 · 15 Comments · Daily

Stewart Road Apartment

I moved into this Stewart Road apartment at the beginning of my second senior year. I was 22 years old and had recently met with my advisor to tell her that I STILL didn’t know what I wanted to study in school. (I had already changed my major six times—piano performance, communications, elementary education, industrial psychology, nutrition, and nursing. Sometimes these were official changes in an office. Sometimes they were done in my head just because I was so embarrassed about my desultoriness. So many interests! Impossible to choose just one!) She studied my class history and grades, sighed, and said, “I can get you out of here in a year with a degree in Psychology and an area of concentration in Religion. Anything else will take more time.” Psychology it was and psychology it is! With an area of concentration in religion!

This apartment was my Final Year apartment. This was the place where studying was KEY, because one mistake could bump me back another year, and that was unacceptable.

On my first night in the apartment, the manager (whose uniform consisted of Hobie shirts and puka bead necklaces) came over with a wine cooler and told me that I was the only American girl in the place. “It’s you, a couple of American guys, and a bunch of Asians.” (The manager was a bit of a tool, although I do believe he meant well when he visited from time to time to “check in” on me.)

A few months into the semester, he knocked on the door (with a wine cooler) and asked, “Well, are you ready for the story about your apartment?”

Of course I was.

Four years before I moved in, an American girl lived in Apartment 306. She had a boyfriend and their relationship was pretty rocky. One night, the boyfriend came over for a visit. He was drunk, they got into a fight, and he swung an ax at her. Sadly, he had ax skills. The neighbors were freaking out and calling the police and eventually the guy was hauled off and the girl was dead.

Hobie with a Wine Cooler (HWC): You look like you don’t believe me.

Me: I’m not sure I do.

HWC: Then let me show you something.

He lifted up the framed emergency stairwell plan and removed it from the wall. AND, there was the tip of what looked like an ax still embedded in the brick. (Was it really brick? It may have been concrete. I can’t quite remember. Anyway: YIKES.)

HWC: It gets better! TWO years ago, an American girl lived in this apartment, and she went missing. We don’t know if she was kidnapped or what, but the door was wide open and she’s still registered as a missing person. I had to help her parents clear out her stuff so we could rent the place out again! SO, four years ago, and two years ago with zero incidents in any other apartment. I wonder if this will be another crazy year in Apartment 306!

(Edited to add: Both stories were verified by the ROTC guy who lived a few doors down, and I trusted him for three reasons. One, he often wore military fatigues, two, he had lived in his apartment for five years, and three, he wrote really bad poetry and was always willing to read it out loud, which resulted in many awkward “That’s a great poem! Well, I need to get going!” moments.)

((Edited AGAIN to add: His poetry may have actually been very good. I have no idea. Similarly, I sometimes can’t distinguish between Good Jazz and Bad Jazz. Onward!))

And it WAS a crazy year in Apartment 306. It was the year that I hosted a Thanksgiving dinner for some friends and was able to cook a 36-inch turkey in a 27-inch oven, all while stomping the roaches that had traveled over from my neighbor’s apartment. (When I reported the roaches to HWC, he came up and we walked over to the next apartment. When he unlocked the door, roaches scattered away from what was probably 38 unwrapped and half eaten snack cakes that Tan (the neighbor) had left on the floor. (I’ll never know why he couldn’t finish a Little Debbie treat. I can eat a Star Crunch in three bites.)

About a week before my graduation ceremony, my best friend and another friend came over to watch movies. At around two in the morning, it suddenly struck me that I had never streaked and there is no time like the present and no present like time! I went into the bathroom and changed into my robe. The plan? Stand in the back doorway (pictured above) to make sure no one is coming. Hand the robe to Best Friend (who promised to keep her eyes closed and to stay at the back door), RUN LIKE THE WIND to the front door and actually enter the front door if anyone was out but if no one was out? KEEP RUNNING all the way around to the back door.

I’ll never forget that run. Not because it was amazing and freeing and TO LIFE! TO LIFE! L’CHAIM!, but because I could hear my heart beating in my head and I was no runner and what if my heart explodes and HEADLIGHTS! DAMNIT!!! sprinkled with a hefty dose of What In The HELL Am I Doing?! I am a BAPTIST!!!

When I returned to the back door, Best Friend handed the robe to me and if I remember correctly, I got dressed and we headed out for Swiss Mushroom Burgers or Ham and Cheese Melts, as we often did.

I was definitely changed after my year in 306, and I’m pleased to report that I made it out alive with a diploma and although a little lost, very much Not Missing.

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15 responses so far ↓

  • 1 Bookmammal // Jul 7, 2013 at 10:40 am

    Hello there!
    I have been reading your blog for about a year now (don’t remember how I found it). I’ve never commented before but I want to tell you that you are a gifted writer! I simply love this entry–and many others. You are able to paint wonderful pictures with words! Plus, I often feel that you have a similar sense of humor to my own, and writing humor effectively is not easy! Anyway, thanks for sharing such a vivid memory!

  • 2 Deb M // Jul 7, 2013 at 11:55 am

    Fun story! Makes me even sadder that we didn’t connect when I was in your town this summer, or when you were in mine.

  • 3 MJ // Jul 7, 2013 at 1:54 pm

    Great story Angie, The image in my mind of someone that could be my daughter, age wise, doing what you did is a little bit weird. But then again kids are weird.

  • 4 Carroll // Jul 7, 2013 at 3:11 pm

    Another great college caper story! I was telling my husband about your Rooftop Turkey Feast this morning and we got started on all sorts of stories of our own. Good times & great memories :-)

  • 5 joaaanna // Jul 7, 2013 at 6:08 pm

    I love this.

  • 6 Cindy // Jul 7, 2013 at 6:25 pm

    There’s just something about that first apartment you live in during your senior year of college. We had one that included an infestation of mice, a couple below us that fought and had sex really loudly all the time and drug dealer across the street. God, we had so much fun in that place.

  • 7 Mitzi // Jul 7, 2013 at 7:09 pm

    This story made me laugh! I am especially blessed to have you as a dear friend. Why did you paint the shower curtain?

  • 8 Nichole // Jul 7, 2013 at 7:14 pm

    All of your college stories involve turkey! I like it!

  • 9 Isabella Golightly // Jul 8, 2013 at 5:39 am

    You’re a Baptist? No wonder you can eat a Star Crunch in three bites. You rock, even masked, Mrs Pudding.

  • 10 Isabella Golightly // Jul 8, 2013 at 5:41 am

    That should say “naked”. But maybe you were masked too – that would have made it easier!

  • 11 Ani // Jul 8, 2013 at 10:32 am

    You always have a great post.

  • 12 Fabs // Jul 8, 2013 at 11:32 am

    THIS is a great story!

  • 13 Donna Young // Jul 8, 2013 at 2:00 pm

    Wow! The last thing I ever would have imagined you doing is streaking. The craziest (and most dangerous, looking back) thing I ever did was go out riding with 4 other friends in an SUV after a rainstorm which then slid off the road and landed on its side in a ditch. We all, none the worse for wear, climbed out of the vehicle and walked back to school. I don’t even remember what happened to the SUV.

  • 14 Grammy // Jul 8, 2013 at 6:06 pm

    What a sweet, funny, “back when I was almost a grown-up” story. Everyone has them, but most people don’t tell them well. You do. Thanks for the word pictures.

  • 15 Amy in KC // Jul 9, 2013 at 2:33 pm

    Essay collection of based-on-true-events stories = Your First Novel

    Loved this!