At 3 a.m. I awoke to loud pounding on our apartment door. Next came the shouts.
“Hannah! Open the door!”
Bam! Bam! Bam!
“Hannah! We want your bagel bites!”
The pounding and shouting persisted. In a foggy haze, I rose from my bed and walked into our hallway where I found my equally as confused apartment-mate staring at the front door. As we wiped the sleep from our eyes, we both wondered the same thing — who is Hannah?
“Hannah! Open the door already and give us your bagel bites!”
Four girls live here. None are named Hannah. As we inched closer to the rattling door, we both took a turn glancing through the peep-hole. Standing outside were several drunken male students who appeared to have wandered back from the Corner in search for Hannah’s alleged bagel bites.
“Should I open the door and tell them they have the wrong place?” I asked my apartment-mate.
“No! Do not open that door,” she whispered. “We have no idea who they are, and they are so drunk that they might just come charging in here!”
I nodded my head in agreement, but the group was relentless and continued to pound for the next five minutes. Eventually, our neighbor swung open his front door and scolded the drunks.
“Hey! It’s been a long Saturday, and people around here are trying to sleep!”
“Maybe he has bagel bites,” one suggested to the other. Immediately, the group forced entry into his apartment, where many cuss words were exchanged until our neighbor successfully threw the drunks back into the hall. The pounding on our door resumed.
“HANNAH! Open up!” And then, “Wait, guys. This is 14th Street. Hannah lives on 15th.”
As quickly as they came, they went — except just before exiting the building, one decided to pull the main fire alarm as he dashed into the streets.
Now everyone was awake. As students in boxers, pajamas and towels angrily stumbled down the stairs, sounds of sirens drew near. Police informed us that — even though there was no fire — it would take at least an hour to reset the alarm system and we could not reenter. Nobody was amused.
While we sat in the parking lot for the next hour, we thought about how often we forget to lock our front door when we’re home. My apartment-mates and I shuddered at the thought of several drunken strangers barreling into our residence as we slept.
Especially as second-years, it is easy to forget that off-Grounds housing does not have the same safety features as on-Grounds housing. Even though areas around 14th and 15th streets feel like an extension of Grounds, we must realize that we are truly separate from the University and in charge of our own safety.
Streets off the Corner are not as well-lit. Strangers and townies roam free, and it does not take multiple swipes of a student ID to enter a building or room. Intruders, robbers, sex offenders and armed strangers still exist in Charlottesville, and the University does not always warn us in a timely fashion about potential external threats.
Therefore, it must be our job to take extra safety precautions in off-Grounds housing and to always be aware of our surroundings. Even simple things — such as keeping the front door locked when watching TV, taking a nap or showering — can make a huge difference in preventing dangerous situations. Thankfully, we learned our lesson through a group’s inebriated search for bagel bites. Others, unfortunately, have learned in harder ways.
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