This story will speak to the quality of indivduals, I associated with in College.
This was in the fall of '88 or '89.
I had been out drinking on the strip, and decided to stop by a friends apartment in the Fort. There had been a bunch of break-ins in the area, over the last couple of weeks. (sound familiar). His car's in the lot so I know he's probably home, so I pull in and park in front of his apartment. He lived on the ground floor. As I get out of the car, I notice his door's cracked open maybe 4-6 inches. As I walk toward the door, I think that's odd his door would be open. So I get up to the door and knock on it, and it swings open a little wider, and I hear a little music playing but there's no light coming out. So I yell his name. Then a light comes on, and he says come on in. So I walk in, and he's sitting in a chair in the corner of the room facing the door, with a 12 pack or what's left of one sitting on the floor and a shotgun propped next to the end table.
I ask him what the hell are you doing, and he said I'm waiting on someone to break in to my apartment, and I thougt if I left the door open a little it would look more enticing.
He now runs Drug Interdiction programs between a couple of State Agencies..