2008 Woodie Awards
I CAN'T BELIEVE I: Flooded two apartments
Luke McIntyre
Issue date: 1/17/06 Section: Life
I have an unmatched skill for breaking toilets. Houdini could pick locks, Da Vinci could paint, and I can break toilets. Even if all the seemingly necessary items for toilet breakage aren't present, I will break the toilet. I'm like the MacGyver of broken plumbing. Indeed, on one memorable occasion I destroyed two apartments in a single flush.
My friend Ryan lives in an apartment with a bunch of our friends from high school. They're engineering students at NC State, so it wasn't entirely surprising to see that they had built stadium seating in their living room. Three levels of couches, each higher than the next, all facing a big screen TV. I like going over to Ryan's.
For the next few hours we watch football and imbibe various things that neither our parents nor our livers would approve of. After everything quiets down I sleep on one of the couches, which is worth noting because while I crash at Ryan's a lot, up until this point I had always slept on the floor. Well, fell on the floor.
At some point in the night I had to get up to use the bathroom. My kidneys apparently didn't approve of the days activities either. I use the facilities, flush, wash, then go back to sleep. What should have been the end of my night was about to become the beginning.
Two hours later I hear frantic knocking on the front door that, no matter how hard I focus my chi, won't go away. I don't live here and don't care to get up or go answer someone else's door, but whoever is outside is knocking like a rapist is after them, so I throw off my blanket and get up.
Splash. That was my foot just then, the splash. Half asleep and completely out of it, my ability to process thoughts is at least twenty minutes and a cup of coffee away. I take one step into ankle-deep liquid and the only thing that pops into my head is that someone must have spilled a drink, albeit a very big drink. Three equally saturated steps later and I'm beginning to wonder exactly who poured all these drinks on the floor. Ryan is going to be pissed.
My friend Ryan lives in an apartment with a bunch of our friends from high school. They're engineering students at NC State, so it wasn't entirely surprising to see that they had built stadium seating in their living room. Three levels of couches, each higher than the next, all facing a big screen TV. I like going over to Ryan's.
For the next few hours we watch football and imbibe various things that neither our parents nor our livers would approve of. After everything quiets down I sleep on one of the couches, which is worth noting because while I crash at Ryan's a lot, up until this point I had always slept on the floor. Well, fell on the floor.
At some point in the night I had to get up to use the bathroom. My kidneys apparently didn't approve of the days activities either. I use the facilities, flush, wash, then go back to sleep. What should have been the end of my night was about to become the beginning.
Two hours later I hear frantic knocking on the front door that, no matter how hard I focus my chi, won't go away. I don't live here and don't care to get up or go answer someone else's door, but whoever is outside is knocking like a rapist is after them, so I throw off my blanket and get up.
Splash. That was my foot just then, the splash. Half asleep and completely out of it, my ability to process thoughts is at least twenty minutes and a cup of coffee away. I take one step into ankle-deep liquid and the only thing that pops into my head is that someone must have spilled a drink, albeit a very big drink. Three equally saturated steps later and I'm beginning to wonder exactly who poured all these drinks on the floor. Ryan is going to be pissed.
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