Here are a couple of recent stories from my building -- I feel that each serves as a microcosm of my entire living experience.
As I was getting ready to leave at 6:30 one morning, I couldn't figure out the source of this odd grinding noise. I thought it was some type of construction, or maybe coming from my roommate's room (who knows what he does in there). Well, I was wrong. I opened the front door and discovered a drunken stranger laying on our doorstep, immobile, snoring, showing more ass crack than I ever want to see, and with what looked to be small dried blood stains around him. Needless to say, neither my movement or subsequent laughter awoke him. My roommate later told me that someone from the front desk showed up at our door, literally poked the guy and asked if he lived with us. The poor, embarassed fool suddenly stood up, apologized, and left to be never heard from again. Now that is dignity at its finest.
Is there a worse physical sensation than waking up in the middle of the night to pee, stepping into a two-inch thick puddle of water (hopefully) in complete darkness, and taking a good 15 seconds to realize that your toilet overflowed, again? At least the two-man janitorial crew in my building was helpful enough to bring an enormous water vaccum to assist my strategically-placed paper towel rolls. Aftewards, I was given a tip for "next time:" to try to call before, or at least as soon as, something like this happens. Seriously? I'm apparently supposed to predict when the plumbing system will fail, and also be aware of it at all times. This is why they get those big tips from our apartment.