09.02.07

I have to call … the FIRE DEPARTMENT?

Posted in culture, friends at 2:10 am

Oh boy … sometimes I’m not really sure what to write.

Last night we had a great dinner out to celebrate Heidi’s birthday. With three tired kids in tow, we hopped the late bus home. When we got to our door, our key decided not to work. We stood there for what seemed like forever trying to get the lock to turn, but it was as if someone changed the locks while we were out.

I try and call my team leader, Jason, who I knew was meeting with some friends for dinner. I was hoping they might have a set of our keys to try. He didn’t answer.

I try and call my landlord. She had recently told me that she can’t find any of our keys, but I was hoping that she had found them in the meantime. But it didn’t matter, since she didn’t answer.

I call Matt. He tells me that the same thing happened to him once, and everyone told him to call the fire department. I was thinking, “Maybe a locksmith would be less dramatic?” But it was Saturday night, and nothing would have been open.

In the meantime, Jason calls back. He asks the Italian couple what we should do. They say, “Call the fire department.”

So I slowly punched in the number into my cell phone. 1 … 1 … 5. The guy answers, and I explain the situation. He gets my information, but warns me that they were busy, and it would be a while before they could get to us. I thought, “If an Italian is warning me that I could be waiting for a while, it really could be a long while.” At no point did he ask me why on earth I was calling the fire department.

I head back upstairs, and our new neighbors from India notice the hub bub. He comes downstairs to try and help, but nothing he does works. So he gets his nephew. He asked me if it’s possible to get into our house from the garden in back. I told him I thought all the windows were locked, but we could go see.

Have you seen Crouching Tiger, Hidden Dragon?

Because that’s what he did. He shimmied into the garden, noticed the open bedroom window, and wall-climbed up into our second-story apartment. The kids cheered. I was amazed at how easy it was to break into my apartment.

Lots of thank yous were exchanged. I called the fire department back and had them call off the storming of the gates. I called the landlord back and told her we were in, and she half-reprimanded me for not having other copies of the key somewhere (even though I explained to her that the lock had broke, not the key). I went upstairs to thank our neighbors again, who then insisted that we all come in and visit. They were both incredibly kind, though the nephew just arrived here and doesn’t speak Italian. Or English.

When Heidi left the house to come up, she left the door open with the rug sticking in it so the wind didn’t blow it closed.

Smart girl.

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