“Hey…could you help me?”

I turned around, halfway out the front door of the apartment building. Dan, one of the new tenants, was standing at the bottom of the half-flight of stairs leading from the landing down to the ground floor. He looked up at me with a slightly frantic look on his face. “What’s up?” I asked.

“There’s this crazy guy wandering the halls.”

“Here?”

“Yeah. He keeps banging on the doors…I don’t know what to do.”

I let the door close behind me and went down the stairs. “Is he down here?”

“Yeah, down at the end of the hall.”

Going around the corner, I walked down the hall to meet our unexpected and uninvited guest. He was standing at the end of the hall by the door leading down to the basement, leaning up against the corner.

“Sir?” I said. “Can I help you?” He grumbled something at me, I’m honestly not sure what. “I’m sorry, but I didn’t understand you. Are you supposed to be in here?” Another unintelligible grumble.

Great, this was going to be a fun one. “Sir, could you please leave?” More grumbling, though not grumbling of a cooperative nature. “I’m going to have to call the police if you don’t leave now.”

This got more of a response. “Yeah. Call the police. Take this outside. C’mon!”

“Sure, let’s take this outside,” I said, figuring that it would at least get the guy out the door. He started down the hall towards me, and I backed away, leading him towards the door. Eventually, I made my way back up to the landing where Dan was waiting at the door. Dan opened the door and stepped outside, and I stood at the landing, looking down the staircase at our new friend. “Sir? Did you want to head outside now?”

“Call the fuckin’ police. Outside. Both of you!” He still wasn’t very cooperative, but apparently he’d only go outside if both Dan and I went out first — assuming he’d even go outside then. I wasn’t terribly convinced.

“Dan, could I borrow your phone?” Dan handed me his cell, and I called 911 as the guy retreated around the stairs to stand by the building’s mailboxes.

“Emergency dispatch.”

“Yes — we’ve got a vagrant roaming through our building, banging on doors.”

“Where are you located, sir?”

“8th and Seneca.”

“Could you describe the person in case he leaves?”

“Sure — about six foot, black, with a greying beard. He’s wearing a grey jacket with blue trim, no shirt underneath, and maroon sweatpants. He’s got safety glasses on upside down,” (here the dispatcher started to laugh) “and one white shoe. No socks.”

“Alright, we’ll have someone there in just a few minutes.”

I thanked her, and hung up. Dan and I chatted for a few moments on the landing as we waited, occasionally ducking some small piece of debris that the guy had found lying by the mailboxes and sent sailing in our general direction. Eventually, he got tired of taking clumsy pot-shots (or just ran out of ammunition) and wandered back down the hall, at which point Dan headed down to keep an eye on him, and I stood at the door and waited for the officers.

A few minutes later, two patrol cars pulled up in front of the building, I let the officers in and pointed them down the stairs to our guest. They headed down and found him seated at the end of the hallway.

“Okay, come on,” the first officer said. “I talked to you yesterday about this. Matter of fact, this guy talked to you too,” he said, gesturing towards his partner. The guy mumbled something I couldn’t understand, but it didn’t seem to make the police officer any happier. “Look we’re tired of seeing you in here, okay? It’s time to go! What did you do with your shoes?” Another mumble, and a vague gesture down the hall.

“He had one shoe on a bit ago,” I called down the hall, realizing that the man was now entirely barefoot. The first officer started guiding the man towards the door, and his partner went down the hall, coming back a moment later with both shoes.

As the officers worked their way towards the front door of the building, some of the other tenants came downstairs, heading out. One of them saw the flashing lights outside the entrance, and turned to took a look at what was going on. “Oh, shit!” he said. “That’s the same guy that was in here yesterday!”

“Who keeps letting him in?” I asked. They just shrugged, and went on out. I stood out of the way while the officers ushered the man outside, then stood outside while they put him up against one of the patrol cars and started going through his pockets.

After watching for a few minutes, I asked if they needed either Dan or I for anything else. “No, we’re fine here,” said one of the officers. We thanked them for coming out, and started up the hill, Dan to a friend’s apartment a few blocks away, and I continued on up to the Vogue.

Ahh, the joys of downtown Seattle.

[See also: Even cops get to play sometimes | Fire! | What the hell’s on my doorknob? | Shake, rattle, and roll | NYPD cop busted for blogging ]

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