Post your roommate stories here

[sean]

I'm slowly realizing that moving out of my parents place on my salary, and on an NYC budget, is impossible to do on my own. I'm gonna need a roommate.

Let me hear some stories. I wanna know what I'm in for.

[Fabrizio]

Well, one of mine was arrested in a notorious, international headline-making, kidnap case.

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[stache]

I had a room mate that had the bright idea that he could turn a quick profit by flipping a pound of pot. The seller showed up one afternoon and held us up at gunpoint. To this day I have the feeling that the gun was not loaded but I'm glad I didn't have to find out. He took the pot and left.

[kz1000ps]

I have more stories than you'd care to hear. I'll try to keep this brief.

-- There was one roomate who goes to my music school, Berklee, and likes to live his life like a rock star. Goes out drinking EVERY night. Ok, nothing too out of the ordinary there. However, he idolizes Jim Morrison of The Doors and is literally convinced that he will die at the age of 27, like Jim. These words came straight from his mouth, and he was entirely sober. He's also in a Doors cover band (which is incredibly good and authentic, btw), and for gig days he'd have this whole ritual he'd do verbatim (leather pants, drink absenthe, believe he was Jim Morrison and wouldn't respond to his real name). That was........fun. It must be nice to know exactly when you'll die.


-- Another was an obsessive compulsive neat freak, and every single thing in his room was physically manipulated to be perfectly in its place. Even if his bed were messy, it'd be a controlled messy. I learned this the hard way the first day -- he was still on semester break, my father and I were moving stuff in, and my dad sat at his desk (this was an open loft set-up and there was no table anywhere) to eat some food. On his desk were a bunch of Simpsons dolls that my dad toyed with a bit for fidgeting's sake.
One of the first things the roomie said to me when he returned was, "I know evey single thing that you touched on my desk." And so I was left to give him the honest truth, to which he listened skeptically, and that tone remained for the year and a half I lived with him.


-- Another was the exact opposite. A complete slob, and a pathological liar to boot. He was in the Army ROTC, played lacrosse and football, and his closet smelled like he did all those things. Everybody who'd enter the room would comment on it, and it made things more than a little embarrassing to bring a girl back to that stench. He'd also let the garbage from his food pile up on his desk and on the floor. Then there were the times he'd tell stories about drinking pre-college, only to later confide in the third roomate that he didn't drink until college. He also said he wore a lot of hawaiian shirts in high school, and that part was utterly believable because he sure as hell acted like "that kid" :D

[ZippyTheChimp]

No more stories from you young people? Can't let this thread die.

Long ago in a galaxy far away - Pittsburgh.

I needed a roommate, and this rube from the Woods of Maine answered. I knew it was going to be volatile, but not in the way I thought.

He had an early class one day, and I was sleeping late. I smoked back then, and when I woke up, I reached for a cigarette, but there were no matches. With the cigarette dangling from my mouth, I opened the bedroom door, and was hit with the overpowering smell of cooking gas. Although I was terrified, I managed to think clearly. The thought popped into my head that the phone was going to ring, and it would be my mother, but I resisted the impulse to pick up the handset, which could have been just as bad. I also was careful not to touch anything, causing a carpet shock. I grabbed a towel, shut off the gas, and left the apartment, carefully shutting the door behind me.

Outside in my underwear, I raced down the hall, banging on apartment doors. One woman slammed the door in my face before I could say anything. I think she was the one who called the police. At the front door of the building, I saw another neighbor, and said, "Don't go in there, don't let anyone ring a bell, and give me a dime."

At a payphone up the street, I put in a call to the fire department. When I got back to the building, two police cars were arriving on the scene. Thinking that was fast, I waited to explain the situation, but the cops immediately tried to handcuff me. My language degenerated into #$&*%^$%& along with the vernacular of the day - pigs.

No one except me really knew exactly what was going on, until the fire department arrived.

Cut to late afternoon. I had already packed the Mainer's stuff. When he walked in, I asked if he had breakfast that morning. He said he was going to cook some eggs, but was running late. I pointed to his suitcases in the corner and said, "Get out."

[pianoman11686]

He was in the Army ROTC, played lacrosse and football, and his closet smelled like he did all those things.

What a great line. Sounds like it came right out of a classic American short story.

[ManhattanKnight]

Do college roommates count? If so:

My first was from Kenya. British-schooled, smart, humorous, and self-assured to the point of apparent megalomania in his often-voiced ambition to rule all of Africa one day. Went on to become the Vice President of Kenya and nearly won the top prize before succumbing to graft and corruption charges.

The guy next door was the son of Jewish German concentration camp survivors. In its wisdom, the college assigned as his roommate a German-American from Michigan, a really amiable fellow with a few quirks, including wearing all-black cloths all-the-time whose buttons and zippers he'd removed and replaced with silver safety pins and admiring all-things Third Reich. He played his recording of "Deutschland Über Alles" at high volume every evening (http://www.thepaganfront.com/brangolf/sounds/Deutschland%20Ueber%20Alles.mp3) and was fond of the German chocolate cakes that my friend's mother baked and brought to the dorm. He went on to become a successful member of the California bar and a prosperous resident of Orange County.

[The Benniest]

Wow. Some good, and hilarious, roommate stories here. I'm sure once college starts I will have some stories to tell, as I will be living in an apartment building with 3 roommates.

Anyone got any more? :D

[Gregory Tenenbaum]

No more stories from you young people? Can't let this thread die.

Long ago in a galaxy far away - Pittsburgh.

I needed a roommate, and this rube from the Woods of Maine answered. I knew it was going to be volatile, but not in the way I thought.

He had an early class one day, and I was sleeping late. I smoked back then, and when I woke up, I reached for a cigarette, but there were no matches. With the cigarette dangling from my mouth, I opened the bedroom door, and was hit with the overpowering smell of cooking gas. Although I was terrified, I managed to think clearly. The thought popped into my head that the phone was going to ring, and it would be my mother, but I resisted the impulse to pick up the handset, which could have been just as bad. I also was careful not to touch anything, causing a carpet shock. I grabbed a towel, shut off the gas, and left the apartment, carefully shutting the door behind me.

Outside in my underwear, I raced down the hall, banging on apartment doors. One woman slammed the door in my face before I could say anything. I think she was the one who called the police. At the front door of the building, I saw another neighbor, and said, "Don't go in there, don't let anyone ring a bell, and give me a dime."

At a payphone up the street, I put in a call to the fire department. When I got back to the building, two police cars were arriving on the scene. Thinking that was fast, I waited to explain the situation, but the cops immediately tried to handcuff me. My language degenerated into #$&*%^$%& along with the vernacular of the day - pigs.

No one except me really knew exactly what was going on, until the fire department arrived.

Cut to late afternoon. I had already packed the Mainer's stuff. When he walked in, I asked if he had breakfast that morning. He said he was going to cook some eggs, but was running late. I pointed to his suitcases in the corner and said, "Get out."

That explains a lot.

[kz1000ps]

Currently, I have 6 freakin' roomates with one little kitchen and one little bathroom. Two of them are oblivious slobs, which ensures that the place is always a mess.

And another one, who smokes five joints a day, gets seizures, oftentimes while he's smoking. It's so utterly nerve wracking.

[The Benniest]

Wow. That sounds like ... fun. :confused:

[pianoman11686]

kz: Is that in Boston? Sounds awfully crowded, and this coming from someone who's living in a one bedroom, one bath with two roommates starting this summer.

[kz1000ps]

Yes it's in Boston, specifically the student ghetto of Allston. The house technically has three bedrooms (two guys are doubled up in one of those) plus a large finished basement (two guys down there, plus a third staying here for the duration of his summer classes).

Still, it's a duplex house with a porch and a little deck out back, plus a driveway and garage, so it's not all bad.

And honestly, pianoman, your future situation sounds pretty darn hairy. Good luck!

[pianoman11686]

Two words for you, kz: pressurized walls. It's how a one-bedroom magically becomes a three-bedroom. (I was skeptical at first, but having seen the space it seems doable. It'll be tight, to be sure, and the one bathroom thing sucks, but it's Manhattan so what can you expect.)

How much longer are you in school?

[kz1000ps]

Sorry to get back to you so late (I don't check this sub-forum much), but I'm not in school any more. I dropped out for two reasons: I wan't satisfied with the education I was getting, and the debt I was taking on was starting to freak me out.

[pianoman11686]

Fair enough. You planning on living in Boston for a while then?

[kz1000ps]

Yeah, as long as my band is alive and kickin'. But let it be known that I'm sick of Boston.. I like the place; don't love it. New York's where I want to be.

[pianoman11686]

You've probably mentioned this somewhere on the forum, so excuse my ignorance. But...what kind of band is it again?

I only ask because I'm thinking of becoming part of a band myself once I get settled in NY.

[kz1000ps]

Actually, I haven't said anything about the band here. Check out the Myspace: http://www.myspace.com/gentlemenhall ..note that the song on the page is MIDI drums, but the live videos are obviously with me on la batterie.

To capsulize our music, my personal name for it is Dancefloor Funk. It's a mixture of soul, pop, funk, hip hop, and a smattering of house. Jamiroquai would be an example of who we sound similar to.

What instrument(s) do you play, pianoman?

[pianoman11686]

Your band's style of music sounds interesting. I really like some of Jamiroquai's stuff. If you're ever in town performing at a bar or something, I'd love to take a listen.

I play only the piano. Classical training for many years. But I've felt the need to explore outside classical music for a while now. I think the first step would be jazz lessons followed by many experimental sessions with an amateur band. After that, who knows?

Problem is, I don't really know where to start.

[kz1000ps]

I just made myself laugh out loud at the fact that I naively asked what instrument you played. Things did.not.connect in my head at all. D'oh.

Anyway, I feel you on the classical-cum-rocker thing. I started out as a classically trained percussionist (I rawk at the marima and timpani..I've got perfect pitch :D), and didn't get into the drumset until about 5 years later. Of course I was listening to rock and some jazz then, so the transition wasn't too hard, but there were still those couple of years when I had little confidence in my ability to play with a band.

All I can tell you is to play along to whatever kind of music you see yourself playing. It sounds incredibly obvious, but it's what works. And get used to the spontaneous interactions (soloing and, especially for pianists, comping) that classical music has little need for.

For instance, I can play four-mallet marima like a monster as long as I have sheet music in front of me, but trying to solo or comp my way through a jazz standard... not a chance, unless I've practiced it for hours beforehand, which of course defeats the purpose of soloing in the first place.