I woke up nude, covered from my neck to my knees with an American flag.  The room was dank, frigid, and smelt like an attic.  My body trembled from the cold air that had filled the apartment.  With the flag draped over my shoulders and pulled tightly around my upper body, I made my way into the living room.  The feint smells of burnt rubber and wet dog grew stronger as I got closer to the bathroom.  A pile of burnt clothing was sitting in the bathtub, which was covered with scattered spots of wet ash.

As I took the standard morning piss, I began to realize that the charred articles of clothing were mine; my expensive peat coat, my favorite pair of pants, a t-shirt I had borrowed from a friend, along with my shoes, wallet, and cell phone, which was broken into various pieces.

What the hell happened here? I thought.  I had no idea whose apartment I was in, no idea why or how, and worst of all, my clothes, wallet, and shoes were sitting in a burnt and soggy pile in a crusty bathtub.  The American flag was at my feet as I stood there perplexed, mildly upset, but more confused than anything else.  I decided to find the tenant who had been so kind to let some stranger stay the night. Continue Reading