About three hours later, I was awakened by a police officer

One Saturday night last year, I decided to, uh, get trashed and go to a frat party. Since the frat was right across the street from my dorm, my roommate and I started drinking in our room, before heading over to the house. We were drinking VERY stiff rum and cokes (like half and half). And after about five of these, I was pretty well obliterated (being a 135 lb. Cross country runner).

As soon as we got inside the frat house, I heard someone say that they had mixed drinks, so I went upstairs to get another rum and coke. I drank that right away and immediately got another. Then I danced and just hung out for the next three hours or so before deciding to go home and see who was up in the dorms.

Keep in mind that I live on the second floor.

First I stopped by the ground floor to see if any of my runner-friends were up. Nope.

Then I got on the elevator and went to the seventh floor. Two of my friends live across from each other in this hall, so I was sure one of them would be awake. I knocked on both doors, but nobody answered either one. That still didn’t stop me.

I looked under both doors to see if the lights were on in either room; both were off. So, in my drunken state, I assumed that they must be out partying (as opposed to sleeping). And I thought it would be hilarious if I was sleeping in the hall outside their rooms when they got back from whatever party they were at. About three hours later, I was awakened…by a police officer.

Oh shit.

He started asking me questions about where I had been, what I had drank, etc. Then when he could tell that I was a little confused, he asked me what time I thought it was. I looked at my watch and tried to read it. My confused mind somehow read 9:15 as 6:30. So I said, “I didn’t think it was 6:30 yet!”

Then he asked me what floor I lived on. “Upstairs,” I replied.

Again he asked, “what floor?”

“The second.”

(*By the way, at UM, the second floor isn’t above the seventh)

He called up a parole officer to give me a breathalyzer. I don’t know what I blew, but I’m sure it wasn’t legal. Later, I overheard the two officers plus another one who had randomly shown up, discuss what to do with me. They decided to let me go, but wanted to walk me back to my room. I tried making small-talk on the elevator like, “I think you guys gave an MIP to a guy down the hall from me last week.” In retrospect, that was a bad thing to bring up.

So we finally got to my room, and on our dry-erase board, my roommate had written: ‘brushing your teeth while inebriated is fun.’ I didn’t want him to get in trouble, so I swung the door all the way open before the officers could read it. This revealed my stop sign/table motif I have set up in the middle of the room with a bottle of Captain Morgan’s on it.

OH SHIT.

After checking the back of the sign to see if it was from Ann Arbor, the cops let me go. I passed out on my futon for about ten minutes, before I had to get up and go to practice. What a night…