Same shit different pile

For those of you who know me, you probably remember some of my sketchy apartments back in the day and know how much less sketchy my place is now. Well, even so, I had another encounter of the crazy homeless variety last night. I came home from skate practice pretty late and when i got out of the elevator i noticed someone was in the hall, sitting between me and my apartment door. I kept heading to my door till I noticed that he was smoking a cigarette and drinking what I imagine was booze straight from the bottle. The whole situation seemed wrong. So, despite the fact that the guy was looking right at me, I got right back on the elevator.
I went down to the security office, and there was no one there. So, I called the dude and told him what was up, and he asked if i wanted him to come home. But, I'm a tough chick, so I said no, that I'd call him back if I needed him. Then I looked everywhere in the building for the security emergency number which for some reason isn't posted anywhere (except of course my fridge which is behind the guy who's sprawled all over my hallway.
I knocked on the super's door, no dice.
In the lobby of my building I see a lady I know from the exercise room so I tell her what's going on and the two of us go back up the elevator and stick our heads out at my floor. Sure enough the guy is still there. I thought he'd have left after our first encounter, since I was obviously going to find someone to turf him, but he was still there. We looked at him, he looked at us, neither of us said anything, we closed the elevator door and my exercise buddy suggested I try the assistant super and told me what apartment she was in, so I went there, and even though the poor woman was off duty I knocked on the door.
This lady obviously doesn't take any shit. She marches up there while I'm trailing after her suggesting that we call security or the police, and she marches over the guy with me about 20 feet behind her. And she tells him to stop smoking in the hall and leave.
He starts by telling us his name, as if, we're going to say, "Oh well, I didn't realize that you were so-and-so of course you can sit in this hall on private property and smoke and drink and intimidate the tennants who pay to live here! Why didn't you say that before?"
Then he goes off in this swearing rant about the movies King Kong and Godzilla, and how he hates Robin Leach (of all people), sure he's annoying, but notable and current enough to hate? I think no.
Then he starts saying that he hates Toronto and wants to blow the city up with a nuclear bomb. If it had been any other situation, I probably would have suggested that he try moving to Montreal or Vancouver. But, for once, I decided to keep my mouth shut. The whole time this is happening, he's still smoking a cigarette and waving it around. Then when the super finally gets him moving, he puts his cigarette out on the carpet (charming) and starts to get up. We retreat to the other end of the hallway so he won't have to pass us to get to the elevator. And with one last curse at us he leaves.
The neighbour told me afterwards that he'd called security a half hour before and then repeated the call when they didn't come.
What a shitty thing to come home to, but at least it was mitigated by the hilarity and randomness of what the crazy guy was going on about.

You may not be surprised to find that this is not the first time this has happened to me. The first time was my 22nd birthday when I came home in a skirt and heels and with and armload of gifts to my apartment to find a guy sleeping/passed out in my entryway, and the door opened out, so no stepping over him. The cab driver's idea of helping me was to get out and kick the dude in the ribs. I convinced two homos in the restaurant next door to come and help me shift him out of the way.

The next time it happened was even sketchier. It was at another apartment, and when we finally called the police to shift the guy, they told us after they took him away that he'd just gotten out of jail for armed robbery - lovely - he'd obviously been well rehabilitated and sent out in the world with the life skills he needed to make it on his own.

The whole thing makes me wonder why I'm paying so much more in rent if the situation is going to be exactly the same?