About a week ago I went to get a drink of water around 4:50am. Got a drink, went back to bed and didn’t even shut my eyes before I heard the keys in our key rack jingle.
* What was that? *
My eyes shot wide open and Amber woke up too. Instinctively, I grabbed the wooden bat that I’ve kept at bedside since college and slowly headed into the darkness of the other room. I thought I could see movement in the bathroom, but I wasn’t 100% sure what was going on. It was nearly 5am and I wasn’t wearing my glasses.
“HEY.” pause. “WHO’s THERE?” (that’s me yelling, which I never do.)
I moved my way to the light, flipped the switch and stared towards the bathroom with my bat extended towards whatever or whoever would be there.
There was someone in my fucking bathroom.
He reacted very slowly to my yelling and the light being turned on. He also reeked of booze. I opened the door and started with the yelling again. I was certainly more freaked out and scared than he was. I as also standing in the center of my living room in me underwear threatening someone with a wooden bat. I must have looked like a Neanderthal.
“YOU DON’T LIVE HERE. GET OUT OF MY APARTMENT.”
Slowly, he started making his way towards the door. I turned to see Amber rushing out of the bedroom with our aluminum bat. In front of her was our eldest dog Matty, who wasn’t about to attack our intruder, but greet him like a friendly dog greets everyone who comes into his territory. Amber grabbed Matty as I nudged whoever came into my apartment in the early morning drunk with my bat and slammed the door behind him and bolted the lock shut.
A few minutes later, the police arrived and asked a few people in the building what happened. When it came us, we were told the “no shit Sherlock” dangers of accidentally leaving our door unbolted. We went inside and went back to sleep with everything bolted shut.
6:00am. The doorknob is turning, but the bolt is preventing the door from opening. Really? Again? Again. This time, the police arrived before he left and escorted him out of the building. The stats on this guy: 15 years old, drunk and doesn’t realize that he lives two doors down instead of in our building.
The weird part about this is what when we lived in Bed Stuy, horrible things happened all around us but nothing happened directly to us or anything we owned. We’ve been in Park Slope for two years and in that time our car was broke into, my bike was stolen and now this.
I’m not sure if the moral of the story is lock your doors, don’t drink when you’re 15, hide your kids, hide your wife or if you come into the Blatt apartment uninvited and drunk, you’ll meet Blatts with Bats.