How I Almost Got Raped by Some Drunk Asshole
or: yes, alaska does have the highest rate of sexual violence in the nation

I was hanging out with my next door neighbor, Jon. We were watching Big on TBS, or whatever channel it is that plays random 80s movies at 1 am. So, we're half watching the movie and half talking about Jon's recent breakup, when his roommate, Francis came home.

Rock knows Francis, by the way. When she was here, we had some drinks with Francis (and with Jon). Francis is a good drinker. When we were at the bar, the bartender actually refused to serve Francis because he'd had more than the legal limit of 6 (?) shots in an hour. Yeah. Good drinker. And Francis's friends are better drinkers.

So. Francis came home, drunk as hell. Bear in mind that this is the weekend before finals, so everyone on campus -- except me and Jon -- was trashed. Francis was bleeding. Turns out his best friend hit him in the face at some party, for no reason. Which is why Francis left the party. So. Francis came in and watched the movie with us. He'd only been home for maybe 10 minutes when there was a knock on the door. Well, "knock" is an understatement. It was more like someone was trying to break the door down while screaming incoherently at the top of his lungs. It was Fred, the guy who hit Francis. Francis did not open the door, and Fred eventually went away. OK. Good.

A while later, Jon decided that he needed a shower. (Jon's weird like that. Sometimes, he just needs a shower. Or to change his clothes. Or whatever.) Fine. Jon's in the shower, Francis is drunk, we're watching Big. About 5 minutes after Jon got in the shower, Fred was back, louder and more violent than before. "Shit," Franics said. "Oh shit." Keep in mind that it's finals week, so the housing people are really bitchy about 24-hour-quiet-hours in the dorms. Drunk Francis doesn't want to get in trouble because his drunk, underage friend is banging on the door, kicking the wall, and screaming.

Francis opened up the door, just a crack, and Fred forced his way in. Fred saw me, got the weirdest smile on his face, started to take his pants off, and stumbled across the room toward me. "Dude!" Francis was pissed. "Don't be actin' that way in front of girls!" Fred doesn't stop. "Dude! You can't do that! Dude! Put your pants back on!" I don't move because I'm terrified of the guy who beat Francis up. (Francis is a pretty big -- as in muscular -- guy, so the idea that someone can take Francis...well...yeah. Scary.) Fred kept coming at me, although slowly because he could barely stand up, and Francis keeps screaming. FINALLY, when Fred (also a big, muscular guy) was really-really-really close, Francis snapped out of his drunken state long enough to pick Fred up, and throw him against the bathroom door, thereby knocking Fred out. Francis then dragged him across the room and deposited him near the door, as far away from me as possible, but also preventing me from leaving. Not cool. Francis was too drunk to realize that he should have dragged Fred into the hallway. I suggested it, but Francis was too busy microwaving some food. Stupid drunks. So when Fred-the-potential-rapist came to and started leering again, his pants still unzipped, Francis started yelling at him again. Jon came out of the shower, very confused. He'd heard Fred slam against the bathroom door, he'd heard the screaming.

"What's going on?" Jon said. He, having just gotten out of the shower, is only wearing his boxers. "Signe almost got raped," Francis said. "Motherfuckin' Fred's too damn drunk." And that's when Fred attacked Francis again, calling him a "fucking faggot." (Somehow drunk Fred thought that Francis was putting the moves on mostly-naked-Jon, which was certainly not the case.) Fortunately, Francis was smart enough to get Fred into the hallway, and eventually got Fred upstairs to his room.

When Fred came back AGAIN, half an hour later, Francis was smart enough not to open the goddamn door.

I have never seen anyone so drunk in my life. Not even Andy the night he tried to drink his desk. And I did not bear witness to Eric's mustard incident, but I'm pretty sure that Fred was even more wasted than that...

It was not pleasant. Alaska is a bad, bad place.