Oh man, junior year of college. Not my proudest moment. Me and maybe half a dozen friends are hanging out on Saturday night and we are just crispy baked. Basically the second the last bowl was finished it happened.
Knock at the door. Serious knocking. Panicked knocking. What do we do? Cops? Gotta be cops. We are so fucked. I'm getting kicked out of housing this time.
One of the girls goes to answer the door.
A guy with insane Ted Kaczynski hair and no pants is SCREAMING at the door to let him in. The girl screams and tries to shut the door, but the guy is forcing his way in. He is bleeding pretty bad, and is basically draped over my friend in a heap. He is totally incoherent, just keeps yelling PLEASE and making no sense otherwise.
My friend runs down to help the girl. I could muster precisely zero courage. I was scared to death. Terrified. I stood at the top of the stairs like a housewife that'd seen a mouse in an old cartoon. WHAT DO WE DO, WHAT DO WE DO!? OH GOD WHAT DO WE DO!?
We have to call the police! Right! I CANT DO IT I'M FREAKING OUT MAN. I DON'T KNOW WHAT TO DO WITH MY HANDS! Someone calls and tells the police an old, possibly homeless man is trying to force his way into the apartment.
My terrified, super-baked mind could only reason that a homeless guy was breaking into our place. Someone calls the police and I remain totally panicking at the top of the steps, helping in no way whatsoever. My friend has wrestled the guy out of the apartment and is trying to calm him down. I made sure the top of the steps were secure.
Eventually the cops come and they take the disheveled, pantless homeless man away in an ambulance. We close the door and sit back down in the living room. "Is anyone else not baked at all anymore?" someone asked. We were not. Frazzled, we decided we'd smoke some more and try to relax. We'd go over the series of events a hundred times over the next few weeks. I tried to downplay my roll as the guardian of the stair well.
Like a week later we'd find it out it was neither an old, nor homeless guy, but rather a friend of a friend on a really bad acid trip who had lost his pants and ran through a field in a panic.
TLDR: Sometimes it's just a guy on a bad trip who'd misplaced his pants.