Nobody is above the law. NOBODY.

So a couple months ago, I went home for a random weekend, something I don't do often. My friend Ian is a football coach at Whitney Young, and their kickoff game was against St. Ignatius at Soldier Field. Seeing this as an opportunity to be at Soldier Field (I had never been) on the cheap, I decided to go home.

I drove downtown and had lunch with a friend, then had enough time to park near the Sports Authority- the downtown flagship always has a ton of brand name workout gear on clearance, so I checked it out. Not even 20 minutes later, I came back to my car, and a ticket was on the windshield- the No Parking Zone sign was bent and was nuzzled well into a nearby tree- there was no way for me to have seen it unless I was extremely aware.

Long story short, I protested the parking ticket and won. Here's how I did it, and how you can, too. My official protest letter and pictures are at the end.

1. Check the Online Pictures
Chicago cops are high tech, and with each parking ticket they write, they upload the offending picture(s) on the website for you to see. They normally take a picture of the sign and your plate number for the website-  the biggest mistake they can make is not taking a picture of your car in relation to the sign. Did they only take a picture of the close up sign and another of your plates? That's really not enough information to rule in the law's favor. If they can't make a correlation that proves that your car was the offending vehicle at the time of the ticket issuance, then you have a case.

2. Take Your Own Pictures
The biggest mistake you can make as someone who wants to appeal is not taking pictures, especially if you have a legitimate claim. Sometimes, as in my case, signs are obstructed by nearby trees or snow. Anything that could have been a reason for you not to clearly see that sign is a legitimate means of protest. If you don't have a legitimate camera phone, you should keep a disposable camera in your glove compartment at all times. Let me revise that- IF YOU OWN A CAR, KEEP A DISPOSABLE CAMERA IN YOUR GLOVE COMPARTMENT AT ALL TIMES. I don't care if your smartphone is 77 megapixels and takes 3D video....smartphone batteries, as you well know, die. Quickly. Just in case you get ticketed after a long night at the club and your phone is dead, keep the disposable camera in your compartment. You'll be glad you spent that $4.

Take two kinds of pictures- unbiased ones and ones that push your case a little more. You can throw those in there as leverage- don't embellish your story, but you can push a tad.

3. Be Specific.
Take note of all times, street names, and other little details that will make your case more sound. Note the street or intersection where you were ticketed. Note the time you left and returned to your car. Sometimes this information can help when you're analyzing it for your appeal, whether you write one for the mail or appear in court.

4. Use Logic
Your appeal should be treated like a court case. You need to convince someone of your side, and sometimes, pictures alone won't do it. Sometimes, you need to go all Law and Order on your appeal. Analyze your pictures. How do they prove your innocence? Take a look at the online pictures- how do they discount the writing of the ticket?

5. Be Respectful
Be honest in your description. If you have a legitimate gripe, state it and back it up through pictures and logic. More than anything, fact is God. Also keep in mind that snarkiness and an angry tone will only hurt your case. Yes, you're pissed. Yes, the law can sometimes bend the rules to write more tickets. Regardless of that, still be respectful- you are still dealing with cops. A nice add-on is stating at the end that you hope the sign will be fixed soon so nobody else has your issue.

I hope this helps someone not have to pay a ticket! If you have any questions, share in the comments section and hopefully I, or someone else, has an answer for you.

Dear Sir/Madam,

I received a parking ticket on Friday, June 26th on the grounds that I parked in a No Parking Zone. I am contesting the ticket on the grounds that the pole which denoted the Tow Zone was bent, and the flag was obstructed by a nearby tree. I have included photographs to plead my case.

At about 7:00 PM on August 26, I parked my car in the spot in question. I was in town to support a friend who was coaching in the High School Football Showcase at Soldier Field. The game wasn’t to start until 8, and since I had some time to waste, I parked my car and headed to the Sports Authority on LaSalle Street. I returned to my car by 7:20 PM, and saw the ticket in my windshield. A gentleman who worked at the paid parking lot on Franklin and Ohio informed me that he had seen my car get ticketed only a few minutes earlier; he informed me that I should take photos of the obstructed sign in order to appeal the ticket. I have included those photographs and descriptions of each below.

Photo #1 was taken from the sidewalk right next to where my car was parked, and from that angle, the sign is obstructed as well.

Photo #2 was taken as a close up, but considering the orientation of the cars on that side of the street, the only person who would have seen the sign would have been someone in the passenger’s seat; I was the only person in my car that day.

Photo #3 is the angle that I would have seen as I pulled up to park my car in this space. As my car is a hard top and not a drop-top, the only angle that would have been able to properly expose the sign was obstructed, and even still, the sign was still blocked by the shrubbery.

I hope you can see from my photos that the sign is blocked- I hope that the proper authorities are able to fix this sign soon as to eliminate any confusion about it. I thank you for your time and patience.

-Jeremy Nelson 

Photo # 1

Photo #2 

Photo #3

UPDATE: My ticket was thrown out. Score one for the little guy!

Black Ranger Pride

So I was the Black Power Ranger for Halloween this year, and as always, it was a last minute, half baked costume. Normally I come up with this elaborate, awesome idea for a costume each year that I'm so convinced I'll put all of my time and energy into. This year, I was going to be the Shuffle Bot from the LMFAO music videos, complete with cardboard box helmet, gold track suit, and accompanying chain. Then I convinced myself that I could do without the chains....then the gold track suit became a black track jacket and jeans...and the cardboard helmet became a brown paper bag. I totally failed on an idea that I spent two months talking about. Now I had no costume.

Then I saw a Black Ranger t-shirt at Hot Topic that I was convinced I needed. Light bulb on. Hallelujah. Unfortunately, the store only sold pink and red ranger masks. Since they were on clearance anyway, I decided to pick one up and make it a black ranger mask with some magic marker magic. Halfway through, the mask looked pretty badass the way it was already colored.

What do you guys think? Should I have kept the mask the way it was, or was I right in coloring the whole thing black?

Saints and Sinners...But Mostly Sinners

This story was so good that I had to come back and write about it immediately.

So Sam is going to be a priest this year for Halloween. I think it's going to be funny, but up until now, there's been one problem: Sam doesn't have a priest collar. So we went out to the mall, and what did we find? Nothing. Hot Topic? Nope. Spencer's? Nada. Halloween Store? Zip. In the end, he just decided that he'd make one from construction paper, and since we already had to go to Target to get him a bible (to hide his flask in), we'd just go there.

Right next to the Target is a Family Christian Store, and lo and behold- they have a sign on the door saying Select Bibles- 50% off. Score.

However, it's Family Christian Stores, and that means they have a bevy of bibles. They have bibles for just about every demographic you can hit- old people, young people, women, teenage boys, Hispanics....you get the point. But it turned out that the only bibles on sale were the ones that started at like $75. Why anyone needs a $75 bible, let alone a $150 bible, is beyond me. But I'm getting away from the point here.

I walk up to the front of the store and find a clerk- a middle aged, heavyset woman- and I ask her for a bible. Then Sam chimes in, and hilarity ensues.

The clerk asks Sam what kind of bible he was looking for, and in his most serious voice, Sam says, "I'm thinking the King James Version would be best." My laughter is already building up. I can tell that this is going to end well.

So the clerk decides that it's her duty to stick with us through the whole process- I don't think she was going to let us leave the store without buying something.

Clerk: Is this bible for a new believer?
Sam: Nope.
Clerk: Well, I think the King James Version would be kind of hard for them to understand.
Sam: Well, he's a traditionalist.

How Sam is making it through this with a straight face is beyond me.The clerk finally leaves us alone after five minutes or so, and then Sam then carries his indifference to the cash register. The cashier was this older guy who looked like he was a no-nonsense Christian, and Sam wasn't having any of this guy's peddling.

Cashier: Do you have one of our Perks Cards?
Sam: No.
Cashier: Would you like to sign-
Sam: No.
Cashier: (in a sorta "you hurt my feelings" way) Well, it doesn't cost anything...you build up points...
Sam: Nah, I'm good.
Cashier: Well, do you attend an eligible church in the area that would receive-
Sam: Umm...no.

At this point, there are a few things that are making my laughter hard to contain. One, the way Sam is holding it together and treating the situation this seriously. Two, the fact that these people don't know that this bible is definitely not going to be used for Christian purposes. Three, the fact that we could have gotten a bible anywhere for a Halloween costume, and we get it from a Christian bookstore. If we get to the pearly gates and we're on the tipping point between going to heaven and going to hell, this might be the tipping point to hell.

We have the bible. Sam is going to get construction paper from Target to make his collar. Everything is good. But part of me wants to know if they sell collars without tipping them off that this is for a Halloween costume. So I have to say something and push this situation a little further towards dealing with a couple of pissed off Christians.

Me: So I've always wanted to know this, and maybe you could help me...where do priests buy their collars?
Cashier: Well, we do pre-orders for priests in the area, and there's a store over on 4th and Monroe.

At this point, the cashier is starting to get this tone of skepticism in his voice. If he doesn't know what's up, he's starting to at least wonder. Rather than push it, I let Sam buy the bible, and leave this situation a winner.

By the way, as Sam starts carving this bible up to make room for his flask, our roommate Li comes downstairs, as he's about to leave for bible study. He sees Sam and says "NO! YOU CAN'T DO THAT TO THE BIBLE! WHAT ARE YOU DOING?" He has a good laugh with Sam and I, and leaves.

Well, at least we didn't have to deal with the crazy Christians.

Coffee Cup Champagne and Birthday Cupcakes

Last night was Homecoming Night, and guess what that means? Classy Wine Night! Classy Wine Night, or CWN, is a concept that my neighbor Michael Watson came up with. In a nutshell, all of us dress up very nicely and drink copious amounts of liquor- preferably wine. Since I'm not a wine person, I drank champagne (hey, it IS sparkling WINE). The best part about the night is that we top load the liquor, so we're pretty wasted for the majority of the night.

Michael Watson- Godfather of Classy Wine Night

Last year, we had a problem- the party spilled over into our house, but two guys fought and broke the upstairs bathroom door. Not a good first impression, I'd have to say. But we've learned from our mistakes, and this time around was bound to be better!

Oh, wait- my roommate Li was scheduled to have a birthday party on the same night! So what did I end up with? A Classy Wine Night Birthday Party! So I got double duty when it came to drinking and partying, and I feel that I shouldered the load quite well. All in all, the entire night was awesome- I didn't have champagne flutes, so I drank all of my liquor out of my trusty red coffee mug. I also taught Li's friends how to shotgun beer, and they taught me various Chinese curses. Funny thing- apparently Chinese people really don't have swear words- they just insult people in the same way that you would if you couldn't swear. Anyways, enough from me- the pictures tell the story better than I could. Check the pics and captions below!

My roommate Li blowing out the candles- 27 birthday cupcakes for the 27 year old!

Li's friends were plenty- and they all drank. Can't argue with that.

Li top loaded his liquor too. He was about ready to pass out when we pulled the cattle prod on him.

As you can see, he recovered nicely.

The Godfather, with the guy who broke our bathroom door at the last CWN in the background.

Only one of the people in this pic is old enough to participate in CWN...I wonder who....

Meagan (left) and Maithili (right) think we're all friends. I guess this picture solidifies it.

Aftermath- the next morning, our place was just about trashed.

All in all, it was a great night, and I definitely can't wait for CWN 3, which is going down this spring. Since it will be the last time we all will be together, it's bound to be a hot mess. Check back soon for more madness!

How To Survive The Working World

Superman lunch box and coffee. Oh yeah!



- Posted using BlogPress on iPad

Location:S 6th St,Springfield,United States

And So We Commence....

So some good friends of mine graduated today. My roommates- Sam, Tim, and Ryan, and our friends Liza, Jenna, and Ellen, all  walked across the stage. Wait, scratch that- Tim didn't go to graduation. I think he and his parents only cared that he graduated- the ceremony was just an extra unnecessary step. Nice to know they're on the same page, and I'll have more on Tim later. But back to the other graduates:

Our graduates...note that Tim is not wearing a graduation gown, but a black shirt  instead. This picture reminded me a lot of...

...the iconic Brady Bunch stairs picture.

So anyways, the girls cried, the guys cracked jokes, the parents hugged everybody, and off to graduation they went....except Tim, Alex (Jenna, Ellen and Liza's roommate, who graduates next year with me), and me. Alex  made Tim a mortarboard and diploma, and it was only fitting that we had a ceremony. Check it out:

So congratulations to the 2011 graduates! You will go on to do great things! I will miss you dearly.

Well, You Asked For It...

So every Wednesday after my Public Relations class, three of my classmates and I go to a bar near campus called Mowie's. We never order more than a drink or two each, but we're at the point where we know our server by name, and we basically sit at the same table every time, if not the one next to it. We vent about problems with classes, work, personal life, and whatever else we need to get off our chests. Surprisingly enough, although we vent at this bar, a fairly public place, very little of what we say actually ends up leaving the bar. We're a tight knit group, and considering the pressure of grad school and the job that comes with us being public service interns, I think a support group would be a great way to help first year interns cope with everything.

One Wednesday after talking about and dealing with our problems, we get on the subject of rape. I don't remember how; I think it was because of a story one of my classmates had heard, but bear with me here. So we eventually get to the comment that ends most rape conversations- "I don't care what happened- she didn't deserve to get raped!"

Hold it right there.

I told my classmates (two girls and one guy, by the way) that the girl in the story may very well have deserved it- maybe not in the sense that they were talking about, but let's rewind the story back. At this point, my female cohorts were horrified that I may even consider that this girl deserved to be raped.

I don't think that anyone deserves to get raped, or for anything bad to happen to anybody; however, when someone knowingly puts themselves in a bad situation, I can't think otherwise. Rewind the tape slowly, and the answers are right there.

My mother always used a quote from The Lord's Prayer- "Lead them not into temptation", meaning that you don't want to put yourself in a situation where bad things can happen to you, no matter how enticing things are. If you have a gambling problem and there's a casino on your way to and from work, take another route to get to work. Sure the casino route may even be shorter, but eliminating the temptation is the most important thing. In this situation, if I blow my entire check, I don't think that the casino is going to get 100% of the blame. You know that in the end, they want your money; you have no choice but to shoulder some of that blame for even going in.

Let's take a look at a situation that happens more often than is shed light on. A rowdy fraternity house has a "costume party", which, as we all know, is code for having girls dress as sluttily as possible without having to be called a slut- since, of couse, every other girl at the party is dressed like her. Although they've done their best to keep it under wraps, reports have crept in that this specific frat house has molested- possibly raped girls at some of their other parties. Yet and still, not only do these girls go to the party, but they dress like sluts. You're going to put 100% of the blame on the guy who raped her? Not really- nobody paid attention to the fact that her outfit is super tight in all the right places, she was flirting with the guy all night, and she left her drink long enough for a guy to roofie it. Did she deserve to get raped? Probably not. Did she properly take control of a situation she knew about in the first place? Absolutely not. If you don't take proper precautions to stop a bad situation from happening,  I believe you have to shoulder some of the blame. He deserves to go to jail, but she shouldn't get off without some harsh words (preferably from Judge Judy), either.

We've all seen on the news how people get killed in bad neighborhoods, even when they're just passing through. Some of those people had never been in these neighborhoods before, but they still pass through anyway. It's not like bad neighborhoods all look like the nice part of Manhattan; you can spot a bad neighborhood from a mile away. But when you pass through- especially at night, don't you have to shoulder some of the blame if you get killed? Sure, it's meaningless violence, but when you put yourself in that situation, you should know the risk. Let's just say I pass through a place like that and get shot in the arm. When my parents get to the hospital, the first thing they'll ask is why I was in that area in the first place. No matter my excuse, they'd probably ask why I didn't just find a safer route.

Accountability and awareness are two huge factors when placing blame on both parties in a situation- what knowledge did both parties have before a situation, and what did they do to eliminate or elevate the amound of danger in a situation? I agree that the offender in a situation deserves most of the blame in any case. But I'll be damned if the victim knowingly puts themselves in a situation and can't somehow "deserve" it. Maybe not fully, but to say they aren't at fault in any way gives them way too much credit.

Remind Me Again Why I'm Here....

I went out to Downtown Springfield with five friends a couple weeks ago, and after grabbing a couple beers at this pretty chill spot, one of them (my roommate) went off with another girl. The rest of us went to this bar/club called Catch 22.

Let me tell you something about Catch 22: it really does live up to its name; no matter what you do, you're bound to get fucked while you're there. If it's not the lack of good looking girls, it's the drink prices. If it's not the drink prices, it's the fact that the floors are stickier than the ones at the peep show. If it's not the sticky floors, it's the abundance of belligerent customers who fight and/or get kicked out.

So, after paying a $5 cover charge, I entered the club hesitantly. Another of our six had been there for a while already and was in her happy zone drink-wise. She was already out on the dance floor with someone else. So there are three guys, including me, and one other girl left at this point. She asks if we want to dance. And give up this couch that 20,000 other people at this club are waiting to get on? No thank you. I'll enjoy the view from the couch.

But since the other two guys went out there, I was screwed; I either had to go out there or sit on the couch like the loser who got left behind. So I went out there. Let me just say this; 1 girl, two straight guys, and a gay guy standing in an awkward circle while everyone around them is dancing is not an enviable position to be in.

After two beers and the most awkward dance circle I've seen in a long time, I drove home. Hopefully this is not a sign of things to come on St. Patrick's Day. Oh well. At least there was a hot dog truck outside the bar to feed the drunk, hungry masses.

Cheers!

Honesty is the Best Policy?

I originally wrote this post back before Christmas, but it took me two months to get around to editing it.

Winter in the midwest is not that much fun when you've entered the working world. Everything seems colder, icier, and any time spent outside is too long. So you can imagine my chagrin when I had to walk to the bus stop every day in freezing weather and wait for my bus to arrive.

As we all know, it gets darker much earlier in winter, and at 4:30 in the afternoon on this particular day, it was damn near pitch black. The location of my job doesn't help matters, either. I work in a neighborhood that's not ghetto, but isn't exactly put together, either. It's like that transitional patch of land between the nice side of town and the side that used to be nice 40 years ago. There's a McDonald's, a couple of barely-open diners, a gas station, and a liquor store with a drive thru window. In the morning, this setup doesn't look too bad, but at this time of day, darkness reared it's ugly head. Even as a guy who can defend myself pretty easily, I'm not too happy to have to stand here until the bus arrives late. Again. For the third day in a row.

Considering the situation, you can imagine the cold, distant look on my face as I await my late bus. Then imagine my surprise when someone approaches me- specifically, this short black guy with a couple missing teeth, a Chicago Bulls jacket that's seen better days, and dissheveled hair. At this point, he's done well to even appraoch me in this state.

"Hey mane, you got a couple dolluhs?" he said in a raspy, slurred tone. Obviously we know where that money is going.

"What?" I reply. My hands are finally warming up. I have no intention of releasing them back into the cold until I have to shell out bus fare. But I was subconscuiously testing to see if he had the nerve to keep asking me for money. I wasn't scared when he inched closer; poor people in Springfield aren't mean or belligerent for the most part...they're just poor. Petty crime really isn't their M.O.

"A couple dolluhs. Can you spayuh anything?" he says, in a slightly louder tone. I look over and I see desperation on his face.

***SIDE NOTE: I actually have beggar policies. I don't discriminate against any of them. I don't care about race, age, gender, or whether you have a baby, a puppy, or a shopping cart- every beggar is the same to me. I will give you money if:

1. I know I have pocket change or a single, and
2. I can easily get it out and safely put away my wallet.

If I even think that I don't have a single, I won't even go into my wallet- I'm not going to let beggars see money and ask if I can go in anywhere and break change. I try my best to say "no, sorry" and not ignore them totally; after all, they are people too, and a sorry is more personal than staring, looking away, and walking off. When I'm downtown on a regular basis, I try and stick to giving every couple of days; karma is a bitch, and one wrong choice, even if it's not as drastic as getting your first fix or killing someone, could land you in the street begging right next to the person you once shunned.  Lastly, if a beggar asks to be bought food, I can't turn them down. Many ask for cash, but if you're really hungry, you'll ask for food.

Anyways, back to the story. I know I have a few singles because I need bus fare. So I reach in my pocket, and give this guy $2.

"Thanks man! I'm about to go up in here and get lit up!" he exclaims.

"Huh?" I retort. I mean, I already knew where my hard earned money was going, but since he was going to elaborate anyway, and my bus wasn't even in view, I wanted to see what he had to say.

"Yeah, I'm 'bout to get up in this heaw liccuh sto and get fucked up!" he says with a mischeivous smile on his face.

Something about this guy is just funny- endearing, almost. You could tell that in his heyday, he could have been the class clown or just really well liked- it even shines through in his hobo-chic wardrobe. You know the skinny person you see in some fat people? Like that, except involving a fifth of Early Times and a lack of dental care.

I couldn't help but laugh, smile, and return the high five he had extended his hand to receive. I really shouldn't be encouraging this type of behavior, especially with a McDonald's in plain view. That $2, plus a paltry 16 cents, would have been enough for him to get a McChicken and fries, but that wasn't his plan on this day. I see my bus's headlights in the distance- it'll be here in about 40 seconds. Like the trained broadcast interviewer that I am, I break down my plan of attack for the last few seconds of this conversation and prepare my final, poignant question.

"So why would you tell me that you're going to go get drunk right after I give you money?" I asked. I'm truly befuddled at this point- he doesn't seem drunk enough to be this honest- after all, he told me he was GOING to get "fucked up", implying that he's still somewhat sober at this point.

"Man, 'cause if I started walkin' to McDonald's when you get on this bus and you see me walk back to the liquor store, you'd be pissed. I'm just lettin you know right now what I'm gonna do. I'll give you back yo money if you want it."

I think for a second. "Nah, just keep it. At least you're honest about it."

"Thanks man. I'm gon' have a beer for you."

His honesty in a situation like this makes me look at him the same way I do Dirty Harry- he does the right thing when he's doing the wrong thing...kinda like an anti-hero.

As I board my bus, he points at me one time and salutes. He then races towards the liquor store with fists pumped in jubilation like he's crossing some imaginary finish line. I chuckle, turn my head, and prepare for the long ride home.

At least I'm not cold anymore.

A Late Bloomer To The Automotive Game

So....I bought a new car this week. Hallelujah.

Merry Christmas to me indeed.

It's especially special for me, because this is my first car. It's a 2010 Corolla, and it is pretty awesome.

Let me share something with you: I went to Alcorn State University, which is in Lorman, Mississippi. It's famous for graduates like Steve McNair, Alex Haley, Medgar Evers, and Leslie Frazier, the interim head coach of the Minnesota Vikings.

Alcorn State, for all intents and purposes, is in the middle of nowhere.

Have you ever seen one of those films where there's a jail in the middle of nowhere? The type where there's one long narrow road in, one long, narrow road out? Replace the jail with a school, and that's Alcorn State. The nearest sign of civilization, Port Gibson, was 20 minutes away, and Vicksburg, the town with the nearest Wal Mart, was 45 minutes away. For four years, I was basically stranded. My biggest advice to new freshmen, was to always have a friend with a car; it was that important.

Now as a grad student at the University of Illinois at Springfield, I have a Wal Mart just 3 minutes away from campus. However, I've been taking the bus to work up until now.I'm pretty stoked about the new ride- one more thing I can cross off of the "Things I Need" list.

I'm a late bloomer socially. I went through my "teenage" phase in college, have never really had a serious girlfriend, and haven't even had a crap car like most 17 year olds do. I have to say though, this is definitely a step in the right direction.

In the Mornings, I Really Don't Give A Damn.

For those of you who haven't found out yet, I work for the Department of Transporation's Divison of Traffic Safety. I go 3 or 4 days a week and work on various things from media buys to invoicing. I start at 9:00, but since I don't have a car, I have to be up every morning at 7:15 to catch the 8:15 bus. So naturally, with three roommates in their senior years, mornings are kinda quiet in M12. Because of this, I really don't give a damn what I do in the mornings. If I just happen to wake someone up, they can go back to sleep without interruption- screw it.

Because most nights I'm doing grad homework til midnight or later (I don't get out of class until 8:30 PM), 7:15 can be a bit much to ask. So I get up and sleepwalk my way through my morning routine, often making dead, sloth-like motions not too far removed from the zombies in the Thriller video. Most of the time, I can make it around my townhouse without doing anything that may disrupt my morning routines, or my roommates.

Today, however, was different. I didn't have any pressed shirts (I usually have my shirts dry cleaned or I iron them a few days before), so I had to iron a shirt. My roommate Ryan's room is right next to the utility closet where we keep the iron and ironing board. So at this point, it should come as no surprise what happened next. I opened Ryan's door on accident.

Now at this point, I didn't know how light a sleeper Ryan really was. But when I opened the door, he made this move that was a combination of shooting straight up like he had just had the worst nightmare of his life...and had been tasered at the same time. It took me about three seconds to realize what I had done, to which I said, "Sorry dude. I thought this was the closet.". I closed his door and laughed my ass off.

Now, I went to work, came home, and still hadn't seen Ryan again- the incident was ages ago to me, so when I got this text at around 8:25 that night, I was surprised and amused.

Yo J-dog, did you come into my room this morning or was I dreaming? Lol

I was due to get out of class in 5 minutes or so, so I knew we were due to have a good laugh over this. I come back in the house, see Ryan, and exclaim "YES!" at the top of my lungs. According to my roommate Tim, it's one of the two best stories of the year- both involve Ryan and both involve closets. However, the other story isn't mine to tell, nor do I know all of the details. You'll just have to ask them about it.