In which I leap to absolutely ridiculous conclusions not once but twice.

When I was a freshman I lived in a sober housing dorm. This meant no controlled substances in the building even if you were legally allowed to have them, also you weren't allowed to be under the influence. So what this meant to me was that I had to get inebriated off the grounds of my residence hall and then sneak back in. This was relatively easy since my room was right next to the back door. However, always having to ingest whichever poison I wanted outside of my home meant that I often had to make my way home while intoxicated.

A quick note: I was still fairly new to the whole "getting absolutely shitfaced" thing so I wasn't quite used to the fact that your perception was not always what was really going on. As a result of this I always believed that what I thought I saw was what I was actually seeing, which led to 2 separate, equally stupid calls to 911. Here they both are for my own self-deprecating purposes.

1. I lived by the football stadium. One of the things that people liked to do partially because it was incredibly easy at the time, was to sneak in to Arizona Stadium and do whatever. I imagine some sweet guy taking his sweetheart for a picnic on the 50 yard line, while a bunch of hippies are sitting smoking weed in the student section and some other couple is boning in endzone. Who knows, breaking and entering was never really my thing.

One day, whomever had broken in that day had decided it was a good idea to vandalize (read: destroy) they carts that sold sodas and fruit punches and what have you. So here I am, stumbling home after a long night out, and I see red fruit punch cascading down the columns of the stadium. Now, this is strange, but 99.99% of people who saw it, if they even noticed, continued right past. I, however, decide in my slightly off state that this is not fruit punch. This is blood. Somebody has executed enough people in my beloved stadium, the home of my favorite football team pro or college, the place I spent tons of Saturdays over 5 years, to let their blood literally run down the walls. This cannot stand. One murder is unacceptable, but enough to flood the stadium with blood? An atrocity. So, this was 1999 and it was before the prevalence of cell phones we see now. I am no Zach Morris after all. So I run to the nearest pay phone and dial 911, ranting and raving about so much blood and there needs to be tons of police, even suggesting helicopters. I then realized that I am drunk as hell and only 18 so I run as soon as I hang up the phone, not taking in to account that if there had actually been a mass murder, that my underage drinking would probably be a moot point. Anyways, lots of police show up and investigate. I am watching this all from my room. The next day, no story of murder in the paper, but the story of vandalized school property and an anonymous tipster they thought might have been a confused homeless man.

2. There was a jackass in another dorm that had outdoor corridors spraying the fire extinguisher around, I thought it was a chemical leak and called the fire department. Not as funny or fleshed out as the first one because I don't remember a goddam thing besides the previous sentence.