It's really hard to think of any stories that would not embarass or implement someone who reads this blogs or someone who knows someone who reads this blog. Not that my friends or I got into trouble, but some of my better stories include instances that would better be told to the public by the person who would stand to be the most embarassed.
One story, however, that I like tell is about a friend of mine, named Ryan. I've told this story plenty of times and so I know he won't mind. If you do mind, Ryan, sorry.
Ryan was dating a friend of mine during the fall of our sophomore year. They seemed to really like each other, but the understanding was that it wasn't serious because he was going to go to Oxford, England for the next semester. One night she and he had a serious talk before he turned in for the night. Apperantly, the talk frustrated Ryan, because upon meeting him in the dorm lobby he didn't seem too happy. I walked with him up to my hallway. We were going to talk in my room. As we approached my room, another friend of ours, Chris, decided that it would be funny to jump out from behind a large trash can and scare us.
This turned out to be a dire mistake on the part of Chris. This abrupt shock sent Ryan into a fit of rage. Ryan proceded to beat on Chris with the mercy of a hungry puma. I pulled Ryan off of the shocked Chris. Ryan wasn't a huge guy, but he was certainly a bigger guy than Chris, who is prime candidate for a beanpole. Or, at least, was at the time.
Chris was understandably furious. "What's your problem?!" he yelled, as Ryan hurled warnings of ever surprising him like that again. Ryan is usually a very docile, friendly guy, and has told me that he currently has this other, darker side of himself in check. But, at the time, you could certainly catch Ryan in a bad mood and soon be in a new mood of your own if you did the wrong thing.
I tried to calm Ryan as a friend of Chris's pull him from the ground. Chris then made the his second mistake of the evening. He had dropped his glasses on the ground and turned to pick them up, lifting his rear into the air. The look on Ryan's face told me what his next move was before he had budged an inch. Before I could stop him, Ryan gave what he was hoping would be a swift and painful boot in the pants. Chris, however, dropped to the ground once again, holding his gut and midsection. The curses and pleas were of a different sort this time.
One sometimes forgets when one sees a butt aloft that depending on the angle and spread of the legs a kick to the buttocks region can also include an item, or set of items, traditionally thought of as the front. Such was the case here. I urged Ryan to escape to my room where Ryan finally started to settle down.
Ryan is one of my best friends and here is why. He is one of those few people who will admit wrong doing and give heartfelt, sincere appologies freely and without excuse. According to Ryan he can sometimes go into "seeing red" mode where everything that he does is only a fuzzy memory at best. Ryan has never been to war, but the amount of time he spends smoking out Charlie would have one thinking differently. Maybe it's all the video games. But, he realized very soon that what he'd done was mean and within an hour or so Chris and he were friends again and all was well. But, I'll never forget that moment when my friend Ryan thought Chris was a special ops assassin sent to destroy him by jumnping out from behind a trash can. One thing I can say: if that ever did happen to Ryan he'd be prepared.