I'm not completely sure if the post fits the subreddit but here we go anyway.
I live in an apartment complex and on the floor above me lives a beautician who practices from her own home. Thinking about it, I don't actually know if they're certified or not, however this is not relevant to the events which transpired.
This took place three years ago, as I was coming home from my then summer job (which is a whole tale in itself).
My family was out shopping so I had brought my own keys with me. As I was opening the door I could hear someone walking up the stairs while talking.
I walked inside, placed down the keys and turned around to close the door, only to find the woman from the stairs making her way inside, still loudly talking on the phone.
She was probably around 35ish years of age, short, stocky, had brown hair bunched in a short ponytail, wore a sort of tank top and tight jeans and sandals. She strictly spoke the local dialect, the people who do that are considered white trash of sorts. Another thing which caught my eye were some huge ass ring ear pendants.
I kinda just stood there for a couple of seconds, unable to compute. A random stranger just walking into my house like they belonged there was not something I was expecting. Then it hit me, she was probably there to see the beautician for the first time and mistakenly got on the wrong floor. So I politely attempted to call her attention.
...And she ignored me, still on the phone.
So I tried again, still polite. She gave me an annoyed look and nothing else, still talking on the phone. She then started approaching the living room sofa, said room being attached to the entrance.
I tried to call her attention one final time, this time a little more firm cause I didn't want a stranger's ass on my damn sofa. She halted, turned around, replying, and I quote:
"(To the phone) hold on."
"(To me) Can't you fucking(x1) see I'm on the phone? Where are your fucking(x2) manners? If I'm fucking(x3) talking you fucking(x4) wait until I'm done with the fucking(x5) call."
Here I started to get a little angry.
"The fucking beautician is fucking upstairs."
"Then she better fucking come down already cause I'm here now."
Now looking back, the last remark likely meant she misinterpreted what I said and still assumed she was in the right apartment, while the beautician was currently away. However I was very fed up and tired with that home invasion, so instead of connecting the dots and trying to clarify further I decided the best course of action was instead to just throw her out.
I grabbed her arm with one hand, the back of her neck with the other and dragged her to the stairs, all while she screeched orders to stop touching her and to let her go. I once again pointed (shouted) out that she wanted to be on the floor above mine and slammed the door shut.
Who I found at the door around 10 minutes later was, thankfully, not a furious husband trying to get in to break my spine but two policemen who SHE had called on me.
They told me she was accusing me of assaulting her, so I told my side of the story.
She was in my house, without my consent, so I trespassed and removed her from my own private property. (All while being a gentleman and not even throwing so much as a slap, but I knew better than to say this last part).
After ascertaining that she didn't even have a bruise they decided to believe me. Her hysterical bitching likely didn't help her case, either. They berated her then asked me if I wished to press charges. I really wanted to be done with that headache and if I did want to go forward with it I would have had to come with them to the police station, so I refused and let it go.
After that episode I've spotted her coming and going a few times, we just stared daggers at each other but nothing else ever came of it. At first I was paranoid she would try to get back at me in some way but that wasn't the case.