God's always looking out

Friday, August 6

Song of the day: Get Buck In Here - DJ Felli Fell

My roommates left for Pennsylvania this morning for a family reunion so the house is mine for the weekend. Reed comes in tomorrow *early* (he'll arrive by 7:30) so I decide to have a quiet night by myself. I leisurely walk home by way of window shopping and people watching. The evening is great and I enjoy sauntering with great plans of Thai Food and a movie before bed.

I must have had quite the time because I don't step in my neighborhood until just before 9:00 pm and it's now getting dark. I hit the video kiosk (I love $1 movies) and try the Thai place next door. It's been a soothing Friday night. I'm feeling good.

Then it hits me.
As I wait for my green curry order, it dawns on me.

When I switched bags this morning, I didn't transfer my keys.
Or did I?

Good feeling gone.
I frantically dig through my purse to see if I could have possibly been so absentminded...

Nope. Everything but.
No keys. The night before Reed gets here. When my roommates are in Pennsylvania. After business hours. When my name's not on the apartment lease. And my phone is about to die.

(You'd think I'd add that last part just to infer more drama, but oh no, the Droid Incredible does that all by itself)

Oh. Sh*t.

Okay, stay calm, what should I do?
There's gotta be a number for something like this; it's an apartment complex, people get locked out all the time. There's bound to be some sort of retard contingency plan.
Time to pray.

I call Kate, who goes into military mode and tells me to hold tight. She was going to make some calls.

She gets back to me to say that because I'm not on the lease they are requiring her to fax them her own id and a note authorizing me into the building. She apologizes profusely and says that she can go in the morning, but that she's in BFE PA and in the middle of a family reunion and can't exactly leave.

I laugh and say it's totally fine; this is definitely my mess to figure out.

With 9% left on my phone battery (which basically means 12 minutes if you don't use it), Kate and I hatch a plan for me to go down to security and play Molly Sue. I'm laughing at the utter ridiculousness that I've gotten myself into. Phone's about to die, roommate's out of town, no place to spend the night and Reed arrives in 10 hours. Molly Sue it is.

I follow the directions that Kate gives me to the security office and luckily run into a guard. I give him the wide-eyed 'please help, I'm scared' look and tell him my problem.

He's a larger tatted man that are only half-way attempted to be covered up. He has a nice voice but a cold exterior. He brings me inside and I give him my key card. Big mistake. That's proof that I'm not on the lease. He goes to check all paperwork and now Kate's in trouble for sub-letting without properly documenting it. This is even worse for our case. As he's checking Kate's paperwork, I get a a text from Kate *explicitly* stating that I should *not* give him my key card. Ah hell. Too late. Another officer joins in and begins to lecture me about not being on the lease and that I should have to pay more than $55 because of that, to teach me and my roommate a lesson.

Turns out, his boss had talked to Kate on the phone earlier and blatantly told this guard it was too bad for me; no name, no key.

Phone dies, out of contact with Kate.

It was time to lay it on thick.
The funny part is that I'm seriously not even playing Molly Sue. I AM Molly Sue. I've only been in town for 3 weeks. I have no idea about the lease and the card rules. I have no options. Please help, dear sir, please make an exception. Flit flit of eyelashes and widening of eyes (apparently this shows how helpless and needy you are? Maybe it just freaks them out, because if any respect...)

The guard goes back to his radio and talks to his boss; and HE lays it on thicker. He tells him that I'm crying (I was not, thank you very much) and that I have no where else to go, etc etc.

The guard comes back and tells me that his boss says no but that if he does; it's all on him if anything goes wrong. Apparently, old boyfriend/girlfriends will pretend to lose their keys and then either trash the apartment or steal so apartment complexs keep their security high to avoid lawsuits. Who does that?!?!?!?! He promises to help only if I stay outside and can identify the layout of the apartment, describe my room and exactly where the keys are perfectly.

I gush, THANK YOU.

The guard tells me that he actually got locked out of his own apartment 4 days ago and the only way that he got into HIS apartment was that the landlord called his boss, NYC Precinct Chief, who vouched for him; otherwise they wouldn't let him in either. And because the drama is still fresh, he's more inclined to help me out.

He takes me to my apartment, I deliver what I promise and I get into my apartment. 2 hours later. On his way out, I ask the guard if there's something I can do to thank him; can I make him cookies, would he like a bottle of wine (get your mind out of the gutter, that's ALL that was offered).

The guard looks at me and says, "No thanks, I'll take my reward from the Big Guy upstairs" and pumps his fist to his heart and then up towards the sky.

"You're a Christian?" I ask
"Yup"
"Me too"

We both smile at the 2nd, yet most bonding, commonality between the two of us.

Ain't nothing lucky about this evening; but God was looking out.

2 hours later, with green curry still hot (seriously NYC has mastered the to-go order), I popped in my movie.