Last night after work I went home following a fairly standard routine. By eight or so I was settled in for the night. I had on my flannel pajamas as it was very cold out and after finishing the dishes I gathered up all the remaining refuse around the kitchen and set my mind to taking the trash out. The dumpster is not far from the back door in my apartment building so I slipped my bare feet into some sandals, grabbed a jacket and headed out the door, garbage in hand.
I was on my way back into the building when I first noticed something was amiss. I reached into my pocket to retrieve my key and noticed that I had no pocket. By extension I had no key either. I started to panic a little. I could feel the nineteen degree wind blowing across my toes. I reached into my jacket pocket for my phone, but of course I'd already taken it out to recharge. I walked over to my car and tried the doors, even though I already knew the doors would be locked. It looked bleak. I had no money, no phone, no socks, and no keys.
I stood on the corner for a long time, feeling my toes go numb and watching the cars go by. As luck would have it, I spotted some familiar faces in a car that pulled into the lot behind my building. Two of my neighbors emerged from their car carrying Wendy's takeout and a new DVD. While I recognized them, I'd never actually chatted with them. Here's what I knew. They were lesbians. One of them very femme. The other so butch I mistook her for a boy the first time I spied her. I suspected they were a couple, but with rent as high as it is in Bergen County, I took nothing for granted. Additionally, I believe them to be potheads. On more than one occasion I've been knocked over by the very obvious odor on the landing. I don't know that it comes from their apartment, but it's not coming from mine and the other doors are a fair distance down the hall.
I slipped in behind them as they opened the door, really impressed with myself. I'd defeated my own stupidity and found a way back into the building. I chatted with the lesbians until we reached our doors. I took my leave of them and reached for my door knob. Of course, it was locked. I'd locked it out of habit. I cursed.
I turned around to see the lesbian's door closing and I called out to them, "ladies!" It was a little presumptuous, granted, but I needed to get their attention, and I couldn't think of anything else to yell.
The butch stuck her head back out and I said, "I can't believe this, but I've locked myself out. May I use your phone? This is such a nightmare."
"Uh-oh," she said sympathetically. "That sucks."
"Yeah," I agreed. "I can't believe this."
She invited me in despite my pajamas. The femme put a comforting hand on my shoulder.
"Our door is a little fucked up," said the butch. "I did the same thing and had to break in. Twice."
I thought I'd hit the jackpot. "Really? Can you break into my place? Do you know how to break in?"
She smiled broadly, clearly excited by the challenge. She grabbed something she called an "all-in-one utility tool" and headed back across the hall. We examined my door and she hacked and pried and pulled, but the concluded that my door was a little too solid. I was going to need a professional. I asked if she thought the landlord would help us out, but we both conjured an image of our landlord in our heads and decided I was on my own.
We went back into her apartment and the femme set me up with a phone and a phone book. I introduced myself and learned their names were Jessica (femme) and Jill (butch) and they'd been together for quite a while. They offered to let me stay with them while I waited for the locksmith, but I turned them down as they were clearly in the mood for cuddling. No third wheel I.
It turns out that having a locksmith open your door for you is remarkably expensive. I patted myself on the back for resisting my recent urges to shop, though I wish I'd blown my mad money on sofa instead of a locksmith.
The locksmith they sent was tall, olive complected and smelled wonderful. He would have been remarkably handsome were it not for his lazy eye, but his bashful reluctance to make eye contact made up for anything he'd lost. He told me my lock was "not so easy" and it had been installed upside down. I leaned over his shoulder to take a look, but really I was just breathing deep.
The lesbians poked their heads out from time to time to see how we were progressing. At lunch today I picked up a thank you card. I'd been an imposition, after all.
Anyway, the whole event was an enormous waste of time and money and I can't help but reflect on it in such a way as to once again come to the conclusion that I shouldn't be allowed to handle my own affairs. And now that you know it too, it wouldn't kill you to remind me sometimes.
Posted at 4:23 p.m.
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