Indecent Exposure

My poor roommate.

Friday, January 7, we decide to stay in, watch movies, make nachos, and drink. She decides to do laundry around 9 p.m.

We live in a very safe area, in a very safe building. The doors to the laundry room are locked and tend to slam shut quickly. Usually when one's foot or finger is in the way. But it's safe.

She goes back down to put her clothes in the dryer. About two minutes later, I hear her flip flops slapping the sidewalk. I figured she forgot her keys. When she gets into the apartment, she's so flustered that she can't string more than a few words together. Once she's calmed down a little, I finally get it out of her that there was a man in the laundry room when she went down there, she turned her back to him for a second, and he was immediately behind her with his pants down and his - in her words - weiner in his hands. She ran the hell out of there. Thank God.

So here's me on the phone with 911 Emergency Response:

"Hi, yes. So my roommate was doing laundry and a man exposed himself to her."

"Where is the laundry room?"

"Oh, it's in our building. But it's locked, so only residents can get in there, and it's a really safe area, and nothing like this has ever happened before."

"Ma'am, is your roommate there?"

"Yes, hold on."

Cops come, write some things down, and then patrol the area for about an hour. And that's it.

Last night, we went to dinner for DC Restaurant Week in L'Enfant Plaza. So it took forever to get home. We finally get back, and we find a pair of Laura's underwear hanging on the bannister in the hallway - a pair that she washed on Friday. When she was harrassed. By the guy and his weiner.

So she freaks out, calls Andre the Giant (this ridiculously tall guy she's been seeing), and says that we are coming to pick him up so he can enter our apartment first. We wait for him to come out of his place for 25 minutes. 25 minutes. I have a raging headache (maybe it was the two martinis at happy hour, I don't know), have to pee, I'm exhausted, and I know DAMN well that there is no one in our apartment. He finally comes ambling down the sidewalk. "Sorry I took so long." Right. Because if the girl that I was obsessed with called for a big strong man to protect her and sleep in her bed, I would make sure to thoroughly pack an overnight bag. I wanted to KILL him. I ended up going inside first because HE WAS SCARED. He wouldn't even move the shower curtain aside. I HAD TO DO IT. I fucking hate this guy. Not only do we wait 25 minutes for him to get his ass out of his apartment (I know that he was doing us a favor, blah, blah, blah), but he is such a pussy.

And it's raining buckets today. Fabulous.