On Being Locked Out

One time Sharon and I locked both our house keys inside our apartment.

It was quite the adventure:

Although we realized as soon as we shut the front door that we would be unable to reenter our abode, we made the decision to proceed with our dinner plans, and figure out how to get back into our house later that evening (this particular dinner had been planned two months in advance).

We returned to our apartment around 9pm, empowered by the simple YouTube video we found explaining how to use a plastic card to pop a door lock, and positive we would be inside the comfort of our residence in no time.


The guy on the simple YouTube briefly mentions that this simple break-in method does not work for some doors... Sharon and I can assure you: the simple YouTube method does not work for either of our doors (and my dental insurance card will never be the same...).

We texted the landlord. No answer.

We called the landlord. No answer.

(and really, can you blame them... I mean: what kind of irresponsible renters leave their apartment without BOTH keys and lock the door?! And then text and call and plead for assistance on a Friday night. Really people???)

Sharon thought a window or three on the second floor may not have been latched (all the windows on the first floor had been locked for winter).

Our neighbor has a couple ladders, so Sharon knocked at his door to ask if we could borrow one. He wasn't home. The tall step ladder was too short, and the long ladder was too heavy... Also, it was dark, and we felt conspicuous toting a hefty ladder through the lawn to attempt to break into our own home. [Additionally, all I could think of was Neighborhood Watch and the historic Lindbergh kidnapping case involving a ladder and a second story window...]

We gave up.

I called the 24-hour emergency number for a nearby locksmith. No answer.
"If you have an emergency, you can leave a message, and someone will call you back when they're able." Great. What a lot of useless help...

I didn't want someone calling me back at 11pm or 3:30am.
At that point, I didn't really want someone calling me back ever. I just wanted to sleep.

It had been an extra long and stressful week at work (complete with a 9am-4:30pm meeting Friday). I was in pain (injured muscle from earlier in the week), and I was exhausted (remember... we had been at a dinner party all evening). I did not want to try to solve the problem of how to get into our locked house at this hour of life.

Although it doesn't win any cliche phrase awards, giving up is sometimes the best option for everyone's sanity.

We drove to Sam and Sara's house and let ourselves in.
{Sam and Sara are the best.}

Sharon and I raided Sara's pj collection, Sara scrounged up two unused mini airplane toothbrushes for us (told you she is the best!), and we tucked in for the night. (side note: in a pinch, contacts can be stored in solution in a teaspoon and a tablespoon overnight.)

Saturday was a new day.
Sara, Sharon, and I had brunch together in the kitchen. Sara has a stuffed chair in her kitchen... which I think is brilliant. We chatted and visited for a couple hours over hot drinks, until finally it was time for Sharon and I to re-face our house-entry dilemma.

The landlord had eventually responded Friday night-- hoping we had gotten inside, and telling us they have no spare key. (Yes, you read that correctly.)

Our neighbor still wasn't home, but we helped ourselves to his 30 foot ladder anyway. We were sure he wouldn't mind as long as we didn't fall off or sue him. It took a lot of teamwork for the two of us to situate the (big and heavy) ladder against the house. Sharon climbed up, only to discover all the windows securely locked. :(

After one final survey of all the first floor windows, we called the locksmith to come to our rescue.

While we waited for him to arrive, we sat in the car and opened our mail and ate carrots and hummus leftover from dinner the evening before. And we laughed.

Because it was all pretty funny.

Five minutes and $65 dollars after the locksmith arrived we were inside our front door. It was pretty great.

inside!

Our neighbor will probably never know we borrowed his ladder unless you tell him, and, of course on Sunday morning we delivered a spare house key to friends for safe keeping just in case.

Although we don't recommend locking yourself out of your house, it was a pretty hilarious experience. It did rearrange our lives a little bit (you know, not sleeping in our own beds and all-- oh, and missing the meetings we were scheduled to attend Saturday morning...). Mostly it was just embarrassing (I mean: I am an accountant. I live with an accountant. We are responsible people. We do not lock our keys in the house. It's not who we are; it's not what we do.)


And... in a funny way... it reminded us both of life in Southern Africa. Something about the crazy ridiculousness that used to be part of every day and every trip and all plans there. You just deal with it; you roll with it; you make new plans; you try other solutions; you find a way. You sleep at your friends' house for a night. You borrow a ladder and then return it when it doesn't help. You happily pay a locksmith $65 for a house call and two minutes of his time.

And in the end you realize that you really love some of the things that can happen when your plans are rearranged... maybe you discover you like the taste of your friend's toothpaste better than that of your own, or that you really enjoy just sitting in the car munching carrot sticks instead of studying or attending a board meeting...

You live in the moment.

And when the locksmith opens your front door, you also live in that moment too :).