So You Find Yourself Living In L.A. (Part 4)

aka Hawaiian Punch is Liquid Shit
aka So Your Roommate is a Raging Coke-Fiend

I know it's been a while since I posted. There is a long-awaited post still coming that was originally to bear the subtitle "Hawaiian Punch is Liquid Shit." However, there has been a long quest to find a camera I can borrow to take some necessary pictures for that one, and as such it hasn't happened yet. Then, this little gem came along, and obviously takes precedence. So, here we are. The post originally intended to be So You Find yourself Living In L.A. (Part 4): Hawaiian Punch is Liquid Shit will still appear, of course now it will be wildly out of order and pale in comparison to this one... but that's how life goes. For now, just take a gander over to the Vendettas list and know it's there for a reason.

Now that all the pleasantries have been taken care of, on to the meat of the post!

So, one of my roommate's friends came down from northern California on Tuesday. He was giving my roommate an air conditioner. Not just any air conditioner, but an insanely expensive air conditioner. Clearly this made me wonder about this friend. What kind of friend drives across a state to give a friend a $700 air conditioner? What exactly is the monetary status of this friend, and what exactly is the relationship with my roommate?

Not wanting to look a gift horse in the mouth, I ignored it and went about my business. That evening they went out for drinks, as is usual, and then I went to bed as I had a 9am class. This is where it gets interesting...

About half an hour later, my roommate's friend burst through the front door. He woke me up, and proceeded to babble incoherently and pace around the apartment as if he were looking for something. The friend was very clearly drunk/high/something out of his mind, and kept going on about how my roommate was in some kind of huge trouble. Eventually I get out of him that something happened, and that he needs to find the police station... which eventually I narrowed down to the campus police (luckily, since I have no idea where the real police station is, or how to get there.)

As he is in no condition to do anything unassisted, I walk him to the campus police, where I sit for the next... many hours... watching this bizarre play unfold before my eyes. This was sort of like watching one of those time-disjointed movies where you can't know what's going on until the very end because all the pieces come together out of place. Very wanky for the viewer, yet simultaneously entertaining because you get to try to put the pieces together yourself. All I really gathered, was that some unhealthy amount of cocaine may or may not have been used by my roommate and his friend...
There was also something about a car; my roommate's or his friend's, I have no idea. Those are really the only details I got, because the rest of the time involved the friend babbling frantically and trying to get the police officers to do something... but nobody seemed to know what he wanted... I was fairly certain that he just didn't know what to do, so he got himself arrested. Meanwhile, I was just sitting on the couch in the campus police station until one of the officer s finally came over to ask me why I was there. He says "And where were you while all this was going on?", and I (having just sat through some of the stranger hours of my life) just crack a smile and quietly laugh as I say "... I was asleep in my apartment... I have absolutely no idea what is going on."

So the officer says "Well, I'd suggest you just go back to doing that" and I respond "So I'm good to go?" and he goes "Yeah, get out of here." There was talk of taking my roommate to the hospital... which realistically they probably should have done (or in fact did), I don't actually know.

After all that, I get home and go back to sleep. About an hour later, the friend comes back to the room. This is of course rather surprising to me, as I imagined he would surely have been arrested since he wandered into the police station incoherently rambling on about his friend who had just been arrested for the same things that he was clearly on, and then proceeded to try to give a police officer his credit card. But no, here he was in my room again. I couldn't get any coherent information about him as to what happened, where he was going, etc... but he packed up his stuff and left. As it was, I had no way of contacting either the roommate or his friend since I don't have the friend's number, and my roommate's cellphone has been broken for weeks. There was some ringing on our apartment's phone... which only the roommate uses... but it was about an hour before my class, and fuck that; I was not dealing with anything but going to classes.

At this point, I should also mention a hilarious sub-plot of this whole adventure:

When the friend and I left my apartment building to go to the campus police, we were confronted by a dude on a skateboard asking if there was a water fountain in the block my apartment is on. I replied "I think there's one in the building over there," and he says "No, not a drinking fountain... a water fountain."

Confused by this exchange, and in the middle of doing something much more important, I just go "Uh... no, there's not... but there's one over there" and point to a building with a fountain. (This was so random and confusing that it also stopped the boozed/coked-out-of-his-mind friend dead in his tracks.) So, we take about two more steps before realizing there is a HORDE of people marching toward us in the street. All of them simultaneously start drunkenly yelling about fountains, and if there is a fountain, and whatnot... and dude-on-skateboard, who appeared to be their leader, yells "there's one over there!" and points in the direction I gave him.

They all start stumbling that way, like a mass of inebriated zombies. As we pass by, one of the guys at the back of the group grabs my shoulder and leans in toward my ear yelling:

"DUDE!!!... HOW MUCH PUSSY DO YOU GET... LIKE... BY THE HOUR???"

...To which I responded, "Yahknow... It's hard to say. There are a lot of hours in a day," and I just kept walking.


As it stands now, the roommate did eventually come back to the apartment with his friend. It turns out that the police didn't do anything to the friend, for some reason they let him go totally free... which just makes me wonder how fucked up my roommate really must have been... because my roommate received a felony charge. Apparently, the LAPD officers I saw entering the station as I left had come to take my roommate to jail. The next day, the friend bailed him out.

Neither of them seem to really know what happened. The friend didn't even remember most of the journey that I was there for when I relayed it back to them. They don't actually remember what was happening when they got stopped, but apparently the campus police claim my roommate was snorting coke directly in front of their station... off one of the metal window frames... Now, while I am fairly sure that this is just complete police bullshit, exploiting my roommate not knowing what was going on to cover up a potential illegal search and seizure... There is no way for me to know, and given my roommate's possible mental handicap, I'm inclined to believe it's true just because it's hilarious.
So, here I am living with a possible felon. You gotta love L.A., baby!