So I Missed a Raid.

This was posted in the SCP thread after a raid I failed to show up for. I debated editing it, but I am lazy so deal with the ramblings of a man lacking sleep.

All right, I will tell you all of what happened last night. Unfortunately, last night can be seen as the culmination of events which I was unlucky enough to be involved in. I wish I could say this was a product of chance, that human error was not to be accounted for, but that would be untrue. Last night simply put was the result of pure stupidity, and it applied to the worst situation: romance. And the love (or lack of) which spawned the abomination of last night is not pretty.

To get a good grasp of why things unfolded as they did, we must go back about a month. Now, at this point in time I had been living in the house for all of a month. I did not previously know my roommates, but as far as I could tell they were decent human beings. From a certain viewpoint they have been a good influence, for I was able to meet new people and become much more social. I was unlucky though on a certain Friday night to be the only one left at the house, being that I got off work late. Nothing to concerning, because having nothing to do on a weekend night isn’t terrible from my stand point. I sat down to eat dinner when the roommate this story focuses on bursts in with girlfriend in tow. He was drunk. It was only 7 pm.

My roommate had gotten off work early that day, and apparently his boss was pleased with something he had done. His office as a group went drinking, and my roommate not being one to pass up free alchohol made sure to get his fill. They eventually ended up going to another bar, where he met up with his girl. I don’t know how I got this detail, but a lonely middle age Indian programmer was the last one left with the two love birds. He promptly bought one hundred plus dollar of liquor, did one shot, and then left. My roommate had before him the opportunity to not have things turn for worst, but the sweet call of the booze was too great. He and his girlfriend, alone mind you, destroyed the liquor before them. When they were done, there was still light in the sky.

So they came home, heavily intoxicated, and tragedy trailing behind them. For, as I was eating, an argument sprang up over the fate of the girl’s car. She being so brilliant had parked it poorly and being in a city it was towed. Her natural reaction was to blame her boyfriend, because fuck it all if we take responsibility for our actions. At some point in the month previously, I had learned that these two did not make good drunks. That night was when I learned how far this truth went. Screaming pouring out, I booked it to my room as I wanted no part of this idiocy. To my dismay, it seemed I didn’t run far enough, for the girl stumbled into my room with a big grin on her face. Lacking pants and from a glance what traditionally go underneath.

My mind was racing as it dawned how bad this situation could get, when my roommate burst in and dragged his partially nude girlfriend away. He immediately came back, and I was praying he didn’t blame me. I would not fare beneath his drunken rage. Yet I lucked out apparently, as he began stammering apologies for his girlfriend’s actions. Being so relieved, I waved him off mentioning how it was no problem and that these things happen some times. Since his earlier binge wasn’t enough, he invited me to hit some parties with him, which I accepted. Heading down stairs to what would be pleasant end to this awkward night, hell struck in the form of his furious girlfriend. Screaming how he lied about her not having pants, his mistreatment of her, and how “My parents knew you were worthless from the first time they met you,” she attacked.

I have never something as crazy as a supposed girlfriend trying to cripple her boyfriend. She bit, she clawed, she punched, and she kicked. I saw her go for his eyes, attempt to stomp out his future children, and spit in his face. He acted maturely and just tried to prevent injury, never once lashing back at her. During this, he begged for my help, which I hesitantly gave (being that he was getting wrecked by her). I suffered a blow to my groin, a bite which broke skin on my arm, but we got her calmed and back into bed. I was offered many more apologies, but I shook my heading telling this poor man it was all right. He then strongly encouraged me to come with him for a night out, which I needed after the shit heap of a night it had been so far.

The next day was uneventful, as the couple acted like nothing had happened. I was left with doubts in my mind about their relationship, but who was I to butt in on their issues? Now I know that was a long back story, but it is needed to fully appreciate my trek last night.



Now, in the weeks leading up to last night my roommate and his girlfriend fought on and off, which was apparently considered normal. I might also add the girl has two dogs that are fond of shitting and pissing in front of my door. In addition, we have had issues where the roommate would unplug the modem/router, lock his door, and leave. While this is minor, and the most we have had to wait for him or his girlfriend to unlock the door is about 2 days. But, little things add up over time, and I got more and more frustrated by the random shit he did. I didn’t let it really get to me, and tried to be as friendly as possible. With hindsight, I was too friendly because of the position I ended up in.

So, the stage is set for the extremely long and painful ordeal of last night. I arrived home at 5:45 last night, and having gotten very little sleep decided to take a nap before SCP’s ulduar raid. My stomach was full of chipotle, and I had my cat sleeping on my stomach. I really couldn’t ask for more and it was defiantly one of those “life is swell” moments. So at around 6:15, my door bursts open and my roommate runs up. He yelled at me and went “We gotta go drinking! I wanna get shit faced tonight!” It was a god damn Thursday, and I had no intention of missing class and possibly work tomorrow for ill fated early weekend boozing. I waved him off, he bounded down the stairs and I heard nothing else from him. If there was a good intentioned god in the universe, my involvement would have ended there. As of course you know, this was not to be the case.

8:00 rolls around and my alarm goes off. Glasses on, throw on a shirt, sit down at the computer. Throw open the login screen, go through the motions to get in game. “Connection could not be established.” Fuck. Checking my wireless connection showed my network was offline. I instantly knew my roommate had fucked me over hard, and I would have to figure out how to get into his room. Calling him of course proved fruitless, because the laws of the universe state that cell phones will always fail or not be picked up in case of an emergency. With no clue as to his where bouts and time ticking away, I made the phone call of shame. Unlike him, his girlfriend answered immediately and I thought for sure my troubles were over. After all, it was a short drive to her house; I could get the key, and be right on time. I quickly tell her I am coming over, hang up and dash out of the house to my car. Seven minutes later I buzz her apartment and the door to salvation unlocks. Bathing in the light of success, I step in and prepare to grab the key.

Of course, in my rush to call her I didn’t give her time to respond. It might have played out differently if I had been a tad calmer and collected, but I am hesitant to say so. As previously mentioned, bitches be crazy. Entering her apartment I saw disorder and chaos strewn around. Emptied bottle of Bacardi? Drained box of wine? Miscellaneous beer cans? Yes, she had it all in there. And she of course wasn’t in great shape either. I always had heard about people drowning out their sorrows with liquor, but this was truly the first time I had witnessed the full effect. With a tear stained face, she slurred out the cause of her sorrows. My roommate and her were ‘finished.’ I don’t know what caused it, I did know this had happened before when they were drunk and it usually amounted to nothing. Sadly, she informed me they had been sober when the final fight went down. Tied down by having to listen to her sob story, I eased my way into asking about the one piece of this tragedy I needed. Did she have the key to his room?

Nope! The first order of business during this break up was to give each other’s keys back. I was fucked, needed to find my roommate, and wanted out of that shitty apartment. And then things took a turn for the worse and she started making advances toward me. And it was nothing subtle, she straight up told me “I saw you couldn’t turn away when you saw my vag.” I would like to take this time to point out I am not very inept at reading situations from a relationship perspective, and if she had been giving me signals during the past months I had zero fucking clue. Babbling at how she knew I was a much better man, she got way to close. I am not a hero who posts in the IMANG thread, I don’t ever consider taking advantage of drunken girls, and the potential shit of getting involved with my roommate’s new ex had me point blank tell her no. More importantly, I needed my internet back.

She then got angry and I quickly realized getting the info of where my roommate had ventured off was sealed off. I hauled ass out of that building and got back into my car. Now, at this point I was obviously not going to make the raid, but I still wanted my internet. I called around, and reached my other sane roommate. The idiot roommate had gathered up two of his friends, douchebag and Indian guy, and hit up a strip of bars on the town. I called all three of these people, but couldn’t reach them. I then received a call from my sane roommate’s girl, and learned that she was concerned for idiot roommate. Apparently he had a past history of self destructive behavior, and breaking up ‘for reals’ with his girlfriend of three years was bad news. She asked, ever so politely, if I had time to spare if I could seek out and hunt down idiot roommate. I really couldn’t back out of it, plus I really had nothing else to do. I set forth to find idiot roommate down and stem his self destructive spiral.



Because no story wouldn’t be complete without something along the lines of “It was a dark and stormy night,” let it be known that this was in fact true. And so I sat in my car, not wanting to spend my night mundanely looking for my roommate. But as mentioned, I had nothing better to do. The pre-Thanksgiving gauntlet of tests was done, I had no internet, and it was too early for me to drink. I fired up the car, and headed into the “bar” section of town. I am not a bar person, but poking into bars quickly to seek out this drunken trio wasn’t going to be too terrible. It was a simple rinse and repeat process, but a shitty one. Go in, give rough description of the binge party, get the response of “haven’t seen them.” So wearing my pea coat, I progressively went into crappier bars. Finally, I got a hit in a bar where I was hoping I wouldn’t get my ass kicked. I quickly learned that my princess was in another castle. In addition, I had my fears confirmed that these idiots were drinking up a storm. Jager bombs, Pink Panty Dropper, and other terrible drinks were guzzled by them. They also didn’t tip.

Exting the bar I found myself shit out of luck. To be completely honest, it wasn’t that late and I figured calling it a night would be the smart thing to do. I should note that I considered this in the “normal” range of shit I do for my collective roommates. For instance, just today I had to back track another roommate I went drinking with because I was informed by his girlfriend that he had work. Since I “should have brought him home,” if he missed work I would net the blame. Luckily I found him at the house next door passed out and managed to drag his sorry ass back in time for work. Minor story aside, the point is I more often than not end up pulling this duty. I had failed before, so leaving idiot roommate to his self pity wasn’t breaking my heart. In hindsight, I should have never picked up my phone when I got a call for him, because this is where the night got strange.

All I could hear from his message was “I am under a bridge!” Ok, so I knew where he was and had to go pick him up. The night was going to be oka- Wait. Under a bridge. It took me a few moments to process the significance of the statement. If I was in another town, maybe this information might have been useful. But I live in Cincinnati, which happens to have the Ohio river. If there is one thing this city has plenty of, it is freaking bridges. If I had been smart, I would have called it a night and lived without internet for a day. Yet, I couldn’t help but think that the fact he was under a bridge could imply I wouldn’t gain access for a very long time. On this most miserable of nights, I eventually found myself cruising the riverfront looking for my roommate. I was terrified, because Cincinnati isn’t the nicest of cities. And the people who hang out along the riverfront at night are not people I would want to run into.

Slowly I worked my way, slumped in my chair with a foot ready to slam the gas pedal. I saw plenty of hookers, probably a few drug dealers, and god knows what else. And my roommate was supposedly here, with him being a white frat boy. I was preparing to head into Kentucky to check out those bridges when I finally got another phone call. This one was from a roommate who was working as a pizza chef, and he told me he just heard idiot roommate was going to the casinos. I honestly don’t know if they were ever under a bridge. I can’t contemplate how they managed to go to a casino. But while I was looking for them under the bridge they managed to drive from Cincinnati to some shitty town in Indiana. But I had a location on them, so the night would end when I found them. And a lost tank of gas is a small price to pay for the internet. One of the key things that enabled me to even consider going to Indiana was my phone. I have a Droid, and the gps function was the key factor in my decision to grab the trio. Also, it was a nerd moment where getting the phone seemed justified, so I felt I owed it to myself to use it.

So some 40 minutes of driving time later, I arrive at the casino. I don’t get why people enjoy wasting money, but it is their choice. I also needed to make sure my roommate didn’t go broke, but I was unsure of how long he was there. Searching through the crowd of mostly overweight red necks, I quickly was losing hope of finding my roommate. They could have left, gone drinking in this town, or could still very well be in the casino. Luckily, I happened upon Indian Guy staring into a slot machine. Managing to pull him away, once again I discovered I was too late. Idiot roommate and Douchebag has left the casino, after idiot roommate tanked 3000 dollars. Indian Guy managed to remember they had left with, and I kid you not, a group of Lebanese. My roommate quickly endeared himself to this group, and they invited him and douchbag to go to a farm they owned. I guess people of all nations can behave trashy, but I was more than astounded.

Now, I only knew this farm was somewhere out in Kentucky. I was relatively close, but my problem was that I had no clue who these Lebanese people were. I called and called my roommate, but he didn’t pick up. I played my last ditch effort, which was calling up Douchebag. Let me explain why I have dubbed this individual Douchebag. He is the sort of guy who comes to a party already completely drunk, and continually spills his beer all over your floor. He doesn’t mind scraping someone’s bumper when he parallel parks. His single goal in life is to get girls beyond wasted and lure them back to his place. Needless, I highly dislike him. Fate would have it that I got in contact with Douchebag, and as an added bonus he was semi coherent. I managed to convince him to give the phone to one of the Lebanese (Which he continually kept making racial remarks about), and I had the address. It was a drive, but I was going to be damned if I didn’t get my roommate back. I plugged in the address, and drove. All I had was trance music to keep my company, and it was a drive where you begin to doubt your very sanity.

I made it to where google maps pointed me, but much to my displeasure there was nothing. Once again cruising back and forth, I came upon a dirt road. This was my best guess, so I went down it. This piece of shit dirt road went through a creek, up hills at absurd angles, and was covered with mud. My Suburu Forester proved worthy, and I arrived at the “farm.” Now, this barely deserved to be called a farm, for all that was there was a shitty barn, a couple of wooden covers, and a shack. There were about 20-30 people partying their brains out, with four wheelers, bon fires, and plenty of booze. This was something you would expect in Kentucky (and ohio to be fair), but the fact that a majority of the people were of Arab descent made it surreal. I parked and tried to seek out for my roommate, but the madness of this party was stupid. I found him though, and managed to drag his mud covered drunken ass back to my car. As I mentioned, Douchebag was here as well. In fairness, I did debate finding him and bringing him home, but I decided not to. Call it a dick move if you will, but he deserved it. I blame him mostly for the fiasco of a night.

The drive back was uneventful, despite stops to let my roommate puke outside of the car. I was drained, because running on very little sleep made the entire ordeal worse. But I got home, had his keys, and more importantly had access to the internet again. At this point, I posted my absences and went to bed. I wish the story ended here, but it doesn’t. My roommate, lacking his key, picked up the beer again. HE then left the house to presumably roam the streets. He decided then it would be a good idea to pee on the door of a church, and behold the cops were there for him. He challenged them and ended the night sleeping in a jail cell.

Epilogue: The follow up to the people in the story are as follows. Indian guy had to sleep in a motel near the casino, and ended up back here the next day. Idiot roommate has to pay a fine from peeing, but last I heard was getting back together with his girlfriend. I still have not heard from Douchebag nor do I really care. As for me, this won’t be the last time I have to hand hold my roommates. However, I now have a copy to my roommate’s door, and don’t plan on going so far to reel him in ever again.