Pochsy wrote:
So I'm inspired to tell a story now that we're getting everyone's life arch figured out. I hadn't told it here when it happened because TSI and Winston_Churchill actually knew me at the school (I even took a class with TSI), and it was best I kept the two worlds apart for this one.
I was in second year, living in a dorm because it was a good price to be located in the dead center of campus and not have to rush to my classes, and decided I was going to get the night started early and invite a couple people over to celebrate. I think it was around 4pm on a Thursday because most people didn't have classes on Fridays. I lived 3 floors up from the porter's office in this building (pictures are nice):
So we're in my room and one guy lights a fucking joint right there, windows closed, door open, and starts huffing away. So I'm at first in damage control mode and slam the door shut, jam a towel under, and tell him to blow clouds out the now open window. I settle down, join in, and within about 5min the fat guy on porter duty is just BANGING down my door. Like he's trying to physically place himself in my room with all his might. Hollering shit like "I can smell what you're doing" and "I'm going to have to call the dean of students" (building next door, for the college, not the whole uni). Dude was livid.
The threat is there in my now inebriated mind, though. I can't let fat porter end my situation like this. I'm not out for blood or anything, and I know I can't talk sense into this guy, so I wait. I signal to the jebronis to stay quiet, butt the joint, and pretend we don't exist. Retard who lit the joint even turns off the lights. Nice. No way we're home, the lights are now off!
My neighbour, Jordan, now smells the dank and is out in the hall laughing his ass of exclaiming that the whole house stinks and that I'm fucked. So we wait. A long time. Like 20min. We hear them going down the stairwell, presumably to get the dean of students, and we spring into action.
We immediately run down the hall, light the joint in the bathroom, and huff that shit like we're Tommy Chong 10min out of prison.
It worked. When they called me to the porter's office I claimed I smelt the weed too, and that we couldn't tell where it was coming from. We argued it must have been someone down the hall. I even made a show of looking for the ashed joint in the bathroom, which, no shit I found because I placed it on the window sill. The dean of students never did get involved--she was away, and fat porter called me in before it was brought to her. He was satisfied that it was a misunderstanding, and that I was scared to open the door because he was hollering so much shit.
Anyways, Your thoughts, insights, and musings on this matter intrigue me.
