Pillbox

Advice for awkward people

Dear Evan,

It’s Saturday night, and I’m drunkenly stumbling around Shadyside trying to find my way home, and my phone is dead. Here, this large patch of grass looks like a nice place to rest. Should I just sleep here for a couple hours?

Incoherently,
Plodding Homeward, In Repose as Intruder on Plot

Dear RIP PHI,

Something very similar happened to one of my old roommates.

He decided to sleep there, but a policewoman picked him up. The kind woman invited him — well, shoved him — into the back of her vehicle, escorted him back to his apartment — which ended up being a block and a half away — and knocked on one of his roommate’s doors (my door).

“Is this his apartment?” she asked, pointing to a sheepishly grinning roommate. Meanwhile, I was experiencing rapidly fluctuating emotions somewhere between pissed at being woken up, and frightened at there being a policewoman standing in my living room.

Apparently, he wasn’t fined or cited. So yeah, go ahead and sleep on the guy’s lawn. You can probably get the police to take you home!

Or just don’t go drinking alone,
Evan Kahn

Dear Evan,

How do I get a third helping of ice cream from the cooler in Schatz without the omelette guy giving me a judgmental look? He’s been watching me binge this whole time.

Awkward and hungry, Secretly Hoarding A Mound of Eclairs, Fighting Urge to Loosen belt

Dear SHAMEFUL,

Well, what were you doing in Schatz, anyway? No one ever eats there after their first year — oh, wait, you’re a first-year? Okay, perfectly acceptable. Sorry for jumping to conclusions.

It’s not like the ice cream you’re eating is any worse for you than those balls of grease the omelette guy serves up, so you don’t have to feel bad about the actual eating. As far as his glaring goes, look him straight in the eye and chew your ice cream slowly and satisfyingly; he’ll just be jealous.

Or just get your ice cream at Dave & Andy’s,
Evan Kahn