Olivia Rose knows … how to nap so hard that the NYPD comes to find you.

Posted in NYC, Storytelling by

Have you ever napped so hard that you woke up and it was the next day? Have you ever napped so hard that your family almost put out a missing person report because no one could get a hold of you for 6 hours and your dad was so mad that he didn’t talk to you for three days straight? I have.

It was a Wednesday, and I was tired. No, I wasn’t tired; I was exhausted. My boyfriend, Patrick, was on the West Coast recording, and I have trouble sleeping in the apartment alone. I was practically running on empty Wednesday morning when I woke up an extra hour early to head to Long Island for work. I slept on the LIRR on the way there and back, stumbled onto the subway home, and walked up the four flights of stairs to my apartment with one eye closed. I took off my pants – only my pants, strangely enough – and dove face first into my bed. It was 7 p.m.

Patrick knew I was in Long Island for the day, and he was fully aware of how tired I was, due to my incessant reminders. “I’m so tired. No like, I’m typing this with my eyes closed. I’m going to go to sleep as soon as I get home. I’ll probably fall asleep right in the lobby. I’m dead,  bye.”

Here’s where I should explain that I am a jumpy person. For no fault of my own, I might add. Patrick does this really adorable thing where he stands perfectly still waiting for me to round the corners in our apartment and then laughs hysterically when I scream bloody murder. He graduated from this scare tactic and moved onto something even better: shower scares. One time, he quietly snuck into the bathroom, slowly reached his hand up and under the shower curtain and grabbed my ankles. On a different day, he ripped the curtain back and screamed, causing me to scream and jump backward, resulting in my ankle scraping on the bathtub trip lever and blood everywhere. I have a scar to prove it. Needless to say, that was the end of shower scares. Or was it?

(My point in this tangent is to explain why I am constantly on high alert. Flash forward to me sleeping face down, you-know-what up.)

While I slept soundly for another 3 hours, my sister, Leah – who had been watching way too much How To Get Away With Murder at the time – reached out to Patrick to ask where I was, since she hadn’t heard from me for a few hours. He calmly explained that I was in Long Island for the day, tired, and probably went home to nap. It was 10 p.m. Leah didn’t buy it. She was convinced that I was too responsible (LOL) to fall asleep without first making sure that my phone had enough battery for the alarm to go off and wake me up for work in the morning. She went straight to the “she was kidnapped” scenario, thus setting off a ripple effect of panic through my entire family. My dad was the last one they called at 11 p.m.

“Neil … we can’t find Olivia.” My mom could’ve tee’d  it up a little less dramatically.

“Whaddya mean you can’t find Olivia??”

“She’s not answering her phone.”


*Side note: there’s virtually nothing that makes my dad angrier than when he can’t get a hold of one of his three daughters. For this reason, he bought me a Mophie portable phone charger for when my phone dies and I’m walking/lost in the city. On this particular day, the Mophie was dead.

In the meantime, Patrick texted his friend who lived above us, Ray, to see if he could go down and knock on our door. Ray wasn’t home, but he said he’d send his roommate, Cliff (who we’d met one time briefly in the hallway). After aggressively knocking on our door a few times, Cliff told Patrick that I wasn’t answering. Patrick knew he had to calm down the Bitetti clan before they did something drastic (spoiler alert: they did), so he gave Cliff the 4-digit door code to our apartment. I’ll just let that one sink in ……

Imagine you’re sleeping, no pants on, and your subconscious knows that your boyfriend is across the country, yet you hear a man’s voice say, “Hey … are you in there??” right outside your slightly open bedroom door.

I leapt from my bed and in one fluid motion flew into the door, slammed it shut and locked it without taking a breath.

“WHO ARE YOU AND WHAT DO YOU WANT?! TAKE EVERYTHING.” I screamed from behind the door.

“It’s Cliff! It’s Cliff! I’m so sorry – I told Patrick this was a bad idea. I told him.”

I threw on some sweatpants, rubbed my eyes and walked into the kitchen to see Cliff covering his eyes and apologizing repeatedly.

“What time is it??” I asked, thinking it must have been around 9.

When Cliff told me it was midnight I thought, shit. I’m in huge trouble.

Cliff left after he apologized 15 more times. I plugged my phone in, and while it was powering up there was a knock on my door. It was a guy I’d never seen before and he was handing me a phone.

“Olivia …? Your dad’s on the phone?”

My dad? Who are you and how did my dad get your number, I wondered.


“Hi dadddyyyy, I was napping.”


And that was the last time I heard from him for 3 days. He later told me that he was in the fetal position balling his eyes out because my sisters and mom freaked him out so much that he thought I was actually kidnapped. I still apologize for it to this day.

The guy on the phone was actually the tenant from the 5th floor – the landlord gave my dad his number after receiving a phone call from my mom. She called him before she called my next visitors …

I then received ANOTHER knock on the door. When I opened it, before me stood two NYPD police officers. They had medical masks and rubber gloves in their hands.

“I’m really sorry gentlemen, it was a misunderstanding. I’m fine.”

They looked at me quizzically.

“We got a call about a missing 95-year-old woman?”

“No no, it’s a 25-year-old woman and it’s me. I’m fine”

To this day, I’m still not sure if there was actually a missing 95-year-old woman, but those officers were really relieved to have not found a dead old lady (hence the gloves and masks).

You’d think after all of the chaos and the fact that I’d already slept for so long that I was up all night. But you’d be wrong. I went back to sleep about an hour later :).

Moral of the story is, I love sleeping.

No wait, it’s always charge your phone.

Actually, it’s don’t have kids.

xx, Olivia

February 19, 2016
Previous Post Next Post

Leave a Reply

You may also like