Interacting with the
Another week, another story up my sleeve.
This one is from my freshman year at UH, when I had a crazy roommate named
Daniel. He still attends the University. Hey Lil' D.
… what's up my man?
Anyway, one day I got off work late one
night and my roommate had a couple of fohtays waiting for me in the fridge
when I got home.
If you don't know what a fohtay is, then
you obviously missed my columns from that period of my life. "Fohtay" is
40 ounces of malt liquor in a bottle. If you know me, you know
I prefer Mickey's.
When I arrived, the room was packed with
our drunken friends. I walked into the middle of an emotionally charged
Now everyone who knows how to play bones
knows you have to slam the domino on the table every time you score. That's
half the fun. But the general rowdiness and noise
level of the competition got out of hand.
Needless to say our pin-headed fellow fourth-floor
Taub Hall residents complained to the Resident Advisors about the loud
noise at two in the morning.
Two RAs came knocking on my door. Being
the least drunk and having the best reputation for having fun with these
student pseudocops, it was my duty to answer the door.
"Uh, hello …," I responded by cracking
the door just enough to see out.
"We're Resident Advisors and we got a complaint
about the noise level in here," said one of the two RAs.
"Sorry about that man, we'll hold it down,"
was something along the lines of my response.
But this didn't quench the over-achieving
RA's quest for residential justice. No, he had to go and offend me by continuing
his investigative probe.
"Is there alcohol in there?" he asked.
"Because if you're underage you can't have it in your room."
"Naah, man, there's no booze in here,"
I said, half-drunk.
"Well that's funny, because I smell it."
Busted, I thought. But there was no way
my comrades and I were going to go down without a fight.
"You can't smell a thing," I slurred and
laughed at them.
"Can I search your room to make sure you
don't have any alcohol in there?" he countered, getting very agitated.
I was in no condition or mood to give him
a lecture about this country's Fourth Amendment so I just scoffed my sternest
"No!" followed with more buzzing laughter.
"Well if you don't let me search your room
I'll be back up here in three minutes with UHPD to search your room more
thoroughly than you probably want."
Now this is where it gets interesting,
folks. Mr. John Wayne Resident Advisor is giving me an ultimatum, but more
importantly a three-minute window of exploitable
opportunity. How could I resist his offer,
even if it meant dragging the authorities in on it?
"Fine. Come back in three minutes and you
and your secret police will see how clean we are!" I challenged and he
"Fine," he said to me as I slammed the
door on his face.