Tonight, I got locked out of my apartment on the balcony. At night. No key. No phone. No shoes. I was in pjs. I had nothing useful. I was cold and scared and miserable.
I had that awful, sinking feeling in my gut. You know, that rush of adrenaline that makes you think “oh, shit! how in the hell am I going to get out of this mess?”
Well, for the first time ever, I’ve been happy to be living by a really active Alcoholics Anonymous meeting location. There are people coming and going a good chunk of the night, and they loiter outside smoking. Michael recounted some of these characters in his Meet My Neighbors post.
Anyway, I was able to call down and get the attention of someone named Daniel. He graciously walked over to the apartment and called the emergency contact number for the landlord, who came into the apartment and unlocked the door to the balcony. The whole ordeal only lasted 20 minutes total, but it felt like an eternity. Apparently, I am not the first person that this has ever happened to. The landlord said it happens a few times a year.
I can only say that I was mortified. I was really, really wondering what sort of Macguiver trick I was going to have to play to break into my own apartment. Thank goodness for the smokers! Long live the smokers!
Labels: seattle