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November 02, 2005
Whaddya Expect? It's Highlandtown ... Hon.
I awoke last night thinking I heard a noise. I was trying to make sense of the display on my alarm clock which seemed to be trying to convey the ridiculous message that is was three O'clock in the morning when I heard the noise again. It was my doorbell. At three O'clock in the morning! As I fumbled around looking for an article of clothing with which to cover myself, I attempted to mentally produce a list of potential late-night visitors. All things considered, this should have been an easy task. However, in my severely groggy state, I was operating at a mental capacity just slighly above that of a republican and therefore lucky that I figured out how to don a pair of boxer shorts.
I plodded down the stairs to the kitchen, staggered to the door, and looked through the glass to find nothing but empty sidewalk. "Shit," I thought, "they must have given up and gone home. I hope it wasn't an emergency of some sort."
*Ding dong*
"What the fuck?!?! Oh, yeah ... there's another door."
I stumble toward the front door and sure enough there is a silhouette backlit by the corner street light peering through the door glass. As I approach the door, I realize there is a second silhouette. By this time, the mind fog was beginning to burn off and it occurred to me that, in general, only two types of silhouettes appear outside ones door at three in the morning: those of criminals and those of cops. While not a hard and fast rule, the latter tend to use the doorbell more often than the former so I thought the cops were outside my door. Ah, but this is Baltimore and it seems there is at least one other group of folks that might show up outside one's door at three in the morning: Teenage girls.
Standing ouside my door peering through the glass were two girls of about fourteen, give or take a year. More likely take a year. "Why would two teenage girls be peering through my window at three in the morning," I thought, "Peering through my window...Holy shit! I'm not wearing anything but boxers and there are two very underage girls looking at me through the window. Not good!" I quickly moved close enough to the door to block their view below my torso and loud enough to be heard through the door glass said, "What?!"
"Is Paul here," one inquired.
"No."
"Does Paul live here?"
"No."
"Does Paul live over there," she inquired further while pointing at the row house directly accross the street from me.
"Don't know."
And that was it. As if it were three in the afternoon, these two dumbass, teenage girls rang my doorbell repeatedly at three in the morning looking for some dickhead friend of theirs named Paul. What did they do next? They walked right over to the house they pointed at earlier and began ringing the doorbell.
Baltimore Posted By eBill at 09:37 AM
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Comments
Damn. I would've been scared outta my pants. Or boxers, in your case.
Posted by: anonymouscoworker at November 2, 2005 02:36 PM
Ha! What a bunch of stupid teenagers! If I were you (assuming I had gotten up the balls to actually go anywhere *near* the front door at 3 a.m.) I would have been brandishing a baseball bat, or a big bread knife or something. And wouldn't these 14-year-old girls love to be greeted with that! Geez.
Posted by: Jen at November 2, 2005 04:39 PM
I'll have to check my latest copy of Emily Post, but I do believe that mooning would have been the appropriate response.
Posted by: tfg at November 2, 2005 06:56 PM
Is Paul there?
Posted by: Teenage Girl at November 3, 2005 06:15 PM
You must be on the other side of highlandtown from my house.
Around here they just walk into your house then ask for someone that doesn't exist.
Posted by: brian at November 7, 2005 10:14 PM
