All right, so here’s the one story that’s safe to tell. Funnily enough, I was remembering this incident a few days ago, before this topic popped up on the forums.
It was the summer of 1977 (I’m pretty sure) in New York, and we had a citywide power failure one evening. (Those of you who are old enough might remember the photograph in the Times of the woman directing traffic at a major intersection on the Upper East Side that night in her evening gown, holding a candelabra. You gotta love New Yorkers; several other citizens directed traffic at other crucial intersections, though I doubt any of them was as well-dressed as she.)
Anyway, I awoke around two o’clock in the morning, standing on the sidewalk in front of my apartment building, clutching a pillow and wearing nothing but a pair of jockey shorts. Thank God for that, and thank God the entire city was pitch black, or it would have been even more embarrassing! Fortunately, the front door lock was broken, so I was able to get back into the building. Though at least it was July, so if I’d had to wait all night for someone to exit the building, I wouldn’t have frozen to death.
Once I got back upstairs, I was able to knock loudly enough to wake up one of my roommates to let me back in the apartment. And because New York apartment buildings have water towers on top, there was enough pressure for me to be able to wash the crud off my feet, before I crawled back into bed.
The next day was payday for one of the University payrolls (we had three), and fortunately the Controller was able to get the cheques printed in New Jersey. The Times was also able to ship its edition over to a printer in Jersey, as well. It was just the Controller and I at work that day, because we were the only two in the department who lived close enough to walk.