Locked out

There are three ways to lock our apartment door. It can be locked and unlocked using a key from both inside and outside—the nice, normal way. The door can also be bolted from inside, which is also fine. And, get this, it can be bolted from the outside. This is a great way to lock your roommate in so that she has to call her boss and tell him she’ll be late for work because she’s trapped in her apartment and then someone has to leave the office to come to her rescue and she has to twist her arm through the bars on the window that doesn’t open the whole way to toss her keys out to her new coworker and then explain that yes, she actually does know how to use a key, but it’s impossible to unlock that lock from the inside, let me show you.

But that’s all behind us now.

Anyway, this is our situation. Or it was, until this weekend. Here, let me tell you a tale.

On Sunday, upon leaving my apartment, I locked the door with the bolt that cannot be undone from the inside and then went off to go about my business. This was not a problem, since there was no one else inside the apartment. So, I did whatever one does midday on a Sunday, and then returned to my apartment later in the afternoon with the intent of entering it. However, when I inserted the key into the keyhole, the teeth didn’t fit into whatever locking mechanism should have been in there. I wiggled the key in the abyss for a while, and when that didn’t work I called the landlord.

After exchanging pleasantries, I said, “Our lock is broken. I can’t open the door.”

“Ok, I’ll call someone to come help you.”

I’ve been standing in the hall for ten or fifteen minutes when three men walk up to me.

“Hey, are you locked out?” one of them asks.

“Yes.” These guys don't look like locksmiths, but who am I to say?

“Your landlord called us to come help you.”

“Oh, thanks! The lock’s broken.”

All of them tried the key. “It’s broken.”

Thanks, guys. “Ok, so what should we do?”

One of the other neighbors comes up the stairs. “What’s going on here?”

“She’s locked out.”

“Let me try.” The newcomer tries the lock. “It’s broken.”

I’m glad that’s established. “What should we do?” (I keep saying “we” and not “I” because I have no idea how to fix this and want them to know that they’re a part of this with me now. There’s no backing away.)

“Well, just use this lock from now on,” he said, pointing at the bottom lock, the one that can be locked from both sides of the door.

“But this one’s still shut.” I gesture to the upper lock, the one responsible for every problem I’ve ever faced in my life.

“Right.”

“So what should we do?”

Everyone looks into the keyhole again. One of them tells me to turn the flashlight on my phone on.

“My phone doesn’t have a flashlight.”

“Yes, it does.”

“No, it doesn’t. Look.”

They pass my phone around and ascertain that it indeed does not have a flashlight. One of them scurries off upstairs and comes back down with a headlamp. They look into the little hole and discover that somehow the place where you insert the key, or whatever you call it, has fallen out of place.

“So what should we do?”

My neighbors stare at the door for a moment, and then one of them gestures to the wall next to the door level to where the keyhole is. “We’ll take out this part of the wall, push it back in, and then you’ll just use the bottom lock from now on.”

I don’t see why not! “Sure, ok!”

Someone dashes off again and comes back a moment later with a hammer and a table knife in his hand. He puts the tip of the knife perpendicular to the wall and then hits the end with the hammer.  Blue flakes of the wall start to collect on the floor.

I can’t help myself. I start to smile, and then I laugh. Now we’re all chuckling as these men, none of whom I’ve ever spoken to before, hack their way into my apartment with a kitchen utensil.

After a couple minutes of slow progress, someone turns up with an actual chisel. From there, the hole expands quickly, they push the bolt back, and the door swings open. Finally!

“Thank you so much!”

“You’re welcome. Just use this bottom lock from now on.”

“Of course!”

And off they rode into the sunset.

So, it was a bit of an inconvenience, but the whole ordeal only lasted an hour. I’ve got a great landlord who sends people to help me and four neighbors who didn’t hesitate to come to the aid of a stranger. And bonus—being locked in the apartment is no longer on the table! Another bonus—I now know a pretty easy way to break into people’s homes if I decide to turn to a life of crime!