I had to wait a day to write about it – it was that traumatizing for me.
Yesterday morning, I woke up at my usual time, and staggered out the front door to walk Charlie. I’m always half-asleep on his morning walks, and usually very grumpy. Waking up has never been easy for me, except if, say, I’ve got to catch a flight to the Yucatan, or am getting married. Early-morning agony has been with me since I was a very young child and my chirpy morning-people parents would rouse me from bed, and shake their heads at me as I fell asleep again on the living room couch or the kitchen table.
Trust me people, I would love to be a morning person. I would love to wake up and feel awake.
Anyway, it’s under this mental fog each day that I walk my dog, who, like most canines, is very much excited to greet each day, even if his days are all pretty much the same. But not yesterday…I woke up, got dressed, leashed Charlie, opened the apartment door and closed it behind us.
Instantly I knew I had forgotten my keys. I was locked out.
“Shit,” I uttered, repeating it numerous times under my breath. I had nothing on me except some clothes, and a bag for Charlie’s waste. Brendan had long left for work.
I walked downstairs, and tried buzzing the super’s apartment, over and over. No answer. I’d have to seek help elsewhere. I grabbed our newspaper, and wedged it in the building’s front door, so it wouldn’t lock on me. I walked to the nearest payphone and tried to call Brendan collect. Didn’t work. I tried recalling my credit card from memory to bill it to a credit card. The voice asked for me security code. Damn! What was it? AGH! So I tried calling my parents collect. Didn’t work. And that was the extent of my phone numbers I knew from memory.
Now I was in a panic, and desperate, so I went inside a bodega, holding Charlie in one hand (it was crowded and I didn’t also need my now-shivering dog to be trampled) and begged to use their phone. The clerk kindly handed me the store’s phone, but it wouldn’t accept Brendan’s long-distance number. So then I had to beg to use her personal cell phone. She relented and handed it over. I frantically called Brendan, and asked him to come home to let me in. Then I had to hang up, because I couldn’t endlessly use her phone.
I went back to the apartment and waited. For at least an hour. I waited in the stairwell, with Charlie. I waited in the basement. I went up on the roof. Jesus, where was Brendan? I buzzed the super at least 10 times. Then, I heard my cell phone ringing and knew Brendan was trying to tell me something. Again desperate, I knocked on a neighbor’s door, red-faced, and explained my situation, and asked to use this cell phone so I could again call Brendan, who explained a car was downstairs, sent from his office, and the driver had my keys.
Thank god. Brendan to the rescue. My morning from hell was over. I wish I could confidently say I won’t ever forget my keys again, but that’d be like saying I’m going to be a morning person from now on.