So, at about 2:00AM this morning Kristen wakes me up frantically and whispers, "Drew, I think there is someone ringing our doorbell..."
Just as she finishes, the doorbell rings in quick succesion. Not the front door buzzer, but the doorbell, so someone is standing at our door at 2 in the morning. I walk up to the door and look through the peephole and am faced with the eyeball of a strange man starring me back right back. After my partial heart attack passes, I go back in the room and tell Kristen not to worry, but there is a strange man standing in front of our door.
I walk back to the door, look through the peephole and say, "What do you want?" To which the many stumbles backwards and mumbles some nonsense. Now I see that not only is there something very wrong with our new friend, but he is also not wearing a shirt. I yell back to him, "Are you OK, are you hurt?" And faintly I hear, "No."
I implore him to just go home, but after a minute instead of leaving he decides to cover the peephole. Frustrated and scared, we decide to call the police, at about 2:10AM. At 2:20AM (a very long 10 minutes), after parking and re-parking their squad car several times, as to avoid stepping in curbside puddle in front of our apartment, two uniform police officers come to our door. When I open the door there is a ratty white towel laying in front it, but no topless man.
I explain to the officers the situation, but also that from our vantage point in the apartment we can see people coming and going from the building, so we think the guy must still be inside. Just as the words leave my mouth, a loud crash is heard a few floors up. Both offices unholster their sidearms, and command us to go back inside and stay there. Guns pointed up, the officers slowly climb the stairs.
As they get to second floor, our upstairs neighbor---likely aroused by the commotion---opens his door to survey the situation. The officers bark out, "Stay right right where you are! Do you live in this building?! Let me see your hands! Do you have keys for that apartment?!" Unfortunately, because I stated the man at my door had no shirt, and my neighbor came to the door with no shirt, he was an immediate suspect. After they worked it out, the officers continued up the stairs.
Upon reaching the third floor, they find our man. Passed out, laying in front of the apartment two floors directly above ours. From our door, Kristen and I hear...
"Sir, how do you get in the building? Are you hurt? What happened to your clothes? Do you live here, is this your apartment?"
We cannot hear any of the response, but after about 5 minutes one of the officer's cell phone rings, "Hello...yeah, we're here. We found him [laughing] he's butt ass naked in the hallway!"
Kristen and I look at one another, and begin laughing. After about another 10 minutes, two more officers arrive with EMTs. The original responding officers come back downstairs and inform us that it is actually our 4th floor neighbor, having a PARTICULARLY rough Sunday night, and that everything is under control and we are welcome to go back to sleep.
As my father said when I told my parents the story, I guess that's why they call it the naked city.