I used to live in an international students dorm here in Berkeley, and there was always this problem with people slamming the bejeezus out of their doors at all times of the day and night. It got so bad, that I put a little camera in a few of the hallways inside the light fixtures, and sure enough, on video, I saw them doing it.
But they weren’t just haphazardly pulling their doors closed. They stopped, put all their stuff down, got in a good position and stance, shored up their grip on it, and really winged it closed with their full strength. Hard enough that it’d shake the walls one or two floors up or down. That is, they were doing it on purpose. When we asked them about it, politely, they’d immediately get super defensive and act like we were insulting them; it was impossible to discuss it.
This was not a one-time occurrence. There were several dozen of these people every year!
It’s not totally unexplained, though. After talking with various cultural attaches, we found out that apparently, to some cultures, slamming doors is a fairly important thing : the “master” of a household would slam doors to make sure people knew he was at home, and where in the house he was. Of course, that meant that we had to put up with these folks wailing their doors closed at 4AM …. oh well… the world…..
I remember that on September 11 I was in Bali with my mum and my brothers. It was late afternoon and my brothers had gone down to the hotel bar and my mum and I were getting ready to join them for dinner. My mum had been in a really weird agitated mood all afternoon, then as she was getting ready she sat down suddenly on the bed and told me to turn on the TV because something terrible had happened. Sure enough we tuned in just in time to see the second plane hit. There’s no way she could have known, we’d been in the hotel room all afternoon and there was no radio or other people around or any way she could have known about it before we turned the TV on.
Less impressive but still kind of weird, she seems to have some kind of bizarre ability to know what I want to eat for dinner. If I’m sitting in my last lecture at night and thinking “geez I sure feel like spaghetti tonight” I can pretty much guarantee that I’ll come home to a plate of spaghetti. We were having coffee one day and I mentioned this to her once and she said unsurprised that of course she knows what I want to eat, we have a psychic connection. I said “oh yeah, what do I want to eat tonight then?” while thinking to myself ‘nachos nachos nachos nachos.’ She looks at me calmly and goes “nachos.” Not even a question, just a statement of obvious fact. It’s not like I always want nachos or anything either…it would have been at least six months since the last time I’d had them.
This one time in college, my boyfriend and I were hooking up and he found a twig in my vagina. We suddenly lost all interest in sexy time and marveled over the apple-stem sized twig. After confirming to ourselves that no, we had not had sex in the woods in the past month or done anything else that would cause a twig to end up in there, we were just left speechless. I was a little bit proud actually. I am still completely baffled about that one.