Using pepper spray

I live in an apartment complex where the aroma of marijuana gently wafts through the corridors as if it were the hottest new flavor of Glade PlugIns. Streams of beer cascade from the balconies on football game Saturdays. The repeated thump of bass is so persistent I often find myself instructing my roommate to rip up the floorboards as I scream, "It is the beating of his hideous heart!"\nThese are the tell-tale signs of an apartment complex inhabited mainly by rollicking, twenty-something college students. However, I have one neighbor who is middle-aged. You can hear the sounds of Star Wars through his door. A life-size Darth Vader cutout adorns his living room. Once, he was out on his porch spray painting a homemade Jango Fett helmet (not to be confused with Boba Fett).\nI was so pleased to see a living, breathing example of a classic American archetype: the middle-aged Star Wars nerd. I knew I had to befriend him, but he was always slinking around, never speaking to anyone. I didn't know how to reach out to him. My friends suggested I bake him cookies shaped like storm troopers or show up at his door wearing the Princess Leia metal bikini.\nI told my mom about my newest friendship quest, and her attitude was more alarmist than C-3PO. Why would anyone who wasn't a raucous whippersnapper want to live in a place where you hear "Snap yo fingers! Do ya step!" through the wall at 3 p.m. on a Monday afternoon? Suspicious indeed. My mom warned me he could be a serial killer.\nThat theory is ridiculous, but it made me realize something important: You never know who's plotting to kill you. Loving thy neighbor as thyself might not be as "kumbaya-tastic" as we all thought.\nAny one of my neighbors could intend to kill me. Every time someone brings over a Jell-O mold, I can't help but wonder how many days I have left to live. They always leave junk mail coupons on my mailbox as a warning. An extra 20 percent off slip covers at Bed, Bath and Beyond is a grim reminder that my days are numbered.\nThe empty beer cans lining the stairwells look up at me like cold, dead corpses as if to say, "This could be you." \nYou have to look for these signals. If you're sitting in class and a random stranger sits down right next to you and tries to make friendly conversation, reach for your pepper spray. If someone sits next to you on the bus, reach for your pepper spray. If someone looks at you funny, make sure they don't have lazy eye, and then reach for your pepper spray.\nThe next time you look through your peephole and see that guy from down the hall ringing the doorbell, asking to borrow a cup of sugar, don't open the door. Just tell him to grow his own sugar cane because today is not your day to die.