A near-death experience

Last Sunday night I came back to my apartment around midnight to the sight of a body lying on the floor at the end of the hallway.

As I approached, I could see that this body belonged to my psycho next-door neighbor. (I call him psycho because I have compelling evidence to believe that he is the one who broke into my apartment the night of my housewarming party 2 years ago after a group of us decided to head down to the Mall for some late-night monument viewing. But don't tell the psycho that, he'll probably sue me for libel next.)

I did walk over to the body and saw that it was breathing, somewhat normally. (Then again, what the hell is normal about passing out in front of your own apartment door?) Not wanting to get involved with whatever was going on with the psycho, but with my conscience not willing to let me pretend I never saw anything, I started to yell out his name, ask if he was OK, all that stuff. (I didn't touch him, though. That's crossing the line to buying into the psychosis, especially if he was just fucking with me. [Ha! "Who's the psycho now?!!?" I hear you saying. Fuck you! (I say that with love.)])

The yelling got no response. So I stood over him and yelled again. No response. (Maybe if I'd thought about it for another minute, I woulda poked him with a stick.)

So I went back downstairs and told the "concierge" (soon to be the night duty nurse of the locked unit that 1234 Mass Ave has become) what I found. He goes, "yeah, that guy's really messed up; he's got a bad drinking problem." So he and I returned to the scene. (I had to tell him the psycho's name, which he then called out and tried to rouse the guy.) Meanwhile, I told him I didn't wish to get any more involved (and reminded him why, oops, setting myself up for slander there) and finally came back inside my apartment.

About 15 minutes later, the paramedics showed up! Ambulance, fire truck out front, the works! They couldn't get the neighbor to respond... I was listening through the door and apparently they shot him up with something (they can do that?) and finally he responded a bit. (At least I assume it was a shot; I heard the one paramedic say "you're going to feel a little prick"... OK, let's not go there.)

They had a stretcher, gurney, whatever, in the hallway and it sounded as if they were going to put the neighbor on it, so I waited and watched out the window to see them come out and haul him to the hospital.

They appeared downstairs, rolled the stretcher out to the ambulance, but without a neighbor.

Strangely enough, he evidently was able to go back into his apartment under his own power (I heard him milling around over there after the paramedics left). I imagine he was supremely pissed off the next morning. I wonder if he knows who called the paramedics??!!!!

Maybe more interesting stuff happens to me than I give credit for.