#28 Roomates and Frying Pans

Around 1970 a friend from college called asking a favor. A friend of hers was moving from Eastern Washington to Seattle. Of course I offered a place to stay, without consulting my roommate who graciously shared her room. It was the friend of a friend so we took in a virtual stranger.

Our guest somehow had a date the first night she arrived. We met him and couldn’t understand the match except that she was rebelling against the world. She got a mundane job and there was no mention of how long she would stay.  Her date/ boyfriend was there all the time. She tried to break up so he tried stalking.

One night we found her curled up on the floor. He was outside with a gun. They had both been drinking. Fortunately my date (#34 Quick Like a Band Aid) worked that summer as a security guard and took over to get the guy out of there. We hoped that was the last of him, but his swagger either intimidated her or made him oddly appealing. He was back.

So here’s an image you never forget. We walked into the apartment another evening to a clunking sound, only to see the boyfriend in the kitchen hitting himself over the head with my giant rod iron frying pan. I could barely lift the thing so you’d think one clunk would do it. If his skull cracked it didn’t stop him from taking another whack. Bam! And bam again. My date disarmed the guy of the weapon/ frying pan and got him into some sort of grip. I’m pretty sure that was the last we saw of the guy. We wondered later what he had rejected in the kitchen as a makeshift suicide implement before he grabbed the pan. I never fried chicken again.

After a couple of months our temporary roommate left. I was not straightforward about asking her to leave, just eager for her exit. There were more adventures with her other odd boyfriends. Fortunately I don’t remember them.

 

---