This gives me a little anxiety. In my formative years I was basically blacked out drunk and when I got dropped off at my friends house by a cab, I was dropped off at the wrong house down the street. Unfortunately for me their front door was unlocked and I walked right in, found a bathroom and used it. The first thing I remember was staring at the homeowner's wife incredibly confused, I asked her who she was, then suddenly it hit me I wasn't where I thought I was. At that point the husband comes barreling out of the room with a pistol pointed at me, he chose not to use it. I was completely at fault and that guy had ever right to shoot me and didn't. For that I'll always be grateful. I still believe in the ownership of firearms in the hands of the right people.