These are the adventures of Stan. Stan is a pseudonym for one of my roommates. Last night, like any responsible college students with an apartment, we had a few friends over to celebrate Thirsty Thursday. Stan was going out the bars with a few of his recently turned 21-year-old friends. Around 12:30 this morning I get a text from Stan. It read, "Someone come get me. PLEACE" [sic]. I figured he was locked out of our Gables building so I called him only to find out that he was at the Whittemore Center bus stop. (Apparently he thought by texting me the bus would come.) I explained that the buses don't run that late and he said he'd be right back. A few minutes later he is banging on the door, yelling "Let me in, somebody let me in!" He is completely out of breath, having just sprinted from the Whit to the Gables. He sits down and claims that he is "the fastest kid on campus" and that nobody could catch him and everybody cheered him as he ran through A-Lot. (Forrest Gump style.) Although, he was very concerned about the guy with the crossbow who was trying to hunt him. Apparently this crossbow wielding man wanted to "shoot [Stan and me] in the forehead" and "one of us [had] to stand guard all night."
Now, I was pretty intoxicated when all of this was happening, but clearly I was the more sober one. I finally got him to go to bed after convincing him that there was no one with a crossbow.
And that is why you shouldn't watch The Walking Dead if you are an imaginative drunk.
Stay classy, not UMassy.