That's when Ross pulled a 9mm from under his seat

It was a Saturday night/Sunday morning during my junior year. It was after 3am and my friends and I had just gotten back to our apartment after spending most of the night out drinking. I was about ready to strip down to my boxer shorts and collapse onto the bed when there was a knock at my bedroom door. Ross, one of my roommates, poked his head into the room and said he just got a call from his cousin on his cell, and needed him to come and pick him up. Ross asked me to ride with him, as he didn’t like the particular area he was going to. I didn’t think anything of it and agreed to go along. I figured we would pick him up and drive back, simple as that. Man was I ever wrong!

We drove to the other side of Holland to a rundown neighborhood. Nobody was outside or on the streets, so I wasn’t alarmed at all. We found the street and drove up and down it a few times. His cousin was nowhere in sight, and all houses on the street had no lights on except one. We both figured that he must be in that one and Ross pulled into the driveway. We both got out and walked up to the door. The windows were rattling due to the stereo blasting rap music. Ross pounded on the door and the music suddenly stopped. We then heard people clearing out of the room fast. Ross looked at me with a confused look. I just shrugged and figured it to be underage kids or something.

The door suddenly pulled open and the aroma of weed nearly knocked us over. A black man was staring at us with a very pissed off look on his face. We both then noticed a coffee table behind him sitting in the living room. There must have been thousands of dollars in cash spread all over it. The song "Redhouse" by Jimi Hendrix suddenly came to mind. The man then said "What da f**k you want?" I immediately felt uneasy, as Ross is a known hot-head and never took crap from nobody. But to my surprise, Ross just asked if his cousin was there. The man then said, "You trippin motha f**kas, get da f**k outta here before I smoke your asses." It was then I noticed that he was holding a silver handgun.

My knees went weak and I froze. I was still worried that Ross might do something stupid, despite this man having a gun in his hand. To my surprise again, Ross turned and walked back towards his car. I somehow unfroze and hurried behind him. I got to the car and got inside. The man was still standing in the doorway, gripping the gun. I told Ross to "Get us the hell out of here" as he opened the driver’s side door. I was horrified when Ross didn’t get in and sit down, but reached underneath the seat and pulled out a nine-millimeter biretta and cocked it. He turned and started to walk back towards the house. The man in the door didn’t budge. He stepped out onto the porch. He and Ross started to yell at each other, both of them holding guns. I was simply terrified and my whole body began to shake.

Other black guys started to file out of the house and stood behind the one who answered the door. They all yelled at Ross and told him to "pull da f**kin trigga if he was goin to." It was then I ducked down inside the car. I was afraid that the other guys had guns also, and Ross was out numbered. I don’t even remember when the last time I prayed before this incident was, but I squeezed my eyes shut and begged the man upstairs to get me out of this one. But thankfully, nothing happened, as Ross and the now "group" on the porch just kept yelling back and forth at each other. Neither Ross nor his nemesis once raised their guns. We soon heard police sirens in the distance. In an instant, the group on the porch retreated back inside and slammed the door. Ross got back into the car and put the gun back underneath his seat. He fumbled with his keys and found the right one. He turned the ignition and the car roared to life.

He took off down the street going nearly 100mph. We both figured that someone who lived on the street must have called the police after they heard the yelling or saw people holding weapons. Ross drove quickly until we were near downtown Holland. Luckily, we never encountered a cop along the way. I asked him where he got the gun, and he said he had had it for years, but this was the first time he ever had to "take it out." I had rode with this guy in the same car for over two years, even borrowed it a couple times, and never realized there was a concealed weapon under the driver’s seat.

I had never been so happy to get back to our apartment, as I was that night. We never went back to that neck of the woods in Holland again. As for Ross's cousin, he called him after we got back and told him to take a cab.