The holiday season
I indulged myself and bought a bike the week before Christmas. While I was at the Christmas Eve service at church someone stole it. For Christmas, God (manifested by the Wollongong PD) gave me back my bike. I thought Holiday fun could never exceed that night, but then came New Years Day.
I, admittedly, caused my current situation. I locked myself out of my apartment. Now, I did not panic. It was five o'clock and I had plenty of time to figure out how to get in. First, I borrow a phone book from a gas station and look up my landlord. After a series of calls I reach the right man. In this case the right man was on vacation 2000 miles away and he recommend trying to jimmy the window lock (not inspiring a sense of security.) So I go back armed with a bookbag, a wallet, and a pair of fold out scissors, and start to work. After half an hour I had managed to pull one latch (the unlocked one). At this point a neighbor comes to offer his help. It will suffice to say that the man looked like one of the dirty extras in a Van Damme movie and was sporting a large cut on his right hand. He comforted me by saying that this happens all the time and he (in fact) had done the same thing the other night and had to bust out his window, hence the cut on his hand. He provided a screwdriver and some basic instructions but was frustrated by my pace and took over the operation. He succeeded in relatching the only progress I had made. He then begin to tell me many stories that made me feel the need to leave. So I took the next step and called a locksmith who quoted me 220 dollars. I then called the landlord who recommended breaking the window. However, I would be stuck for at least a week with a open window in a neighborhood that seems more and more like a late night Fox special, so I asked if anyone else had a key. The answer is yes...And so my dear friends, I am in an internet cafe run by the Chinese Mafia, wasting away what night I can before I go to sit for eight hours in front of my apartment and wait for Monday morning.
Happy New Year
I, admittedly, caused my current situation. I locked myself out of my apartment. Now, I did not panic. It was five o'clock and I had plenty of time to figure out how to get in. First, I borrow a phone book from a gas station and look up my landlord. After a series of calls I reach the right man. In this case the right man was on vacation 2000 miles away and he recommend trying to jimmy the window lock (not inspiring a sense of security.) So I go back armed with a bookbag, a wallet, and a pair of fold out scissors, and start to work. After half an hour I had managed to pull one latch (the unlocked one). At this point a neighbor comes to offer his help. It will suffice to say that the man looked like one of the dirty extras in a Van Damme movie and was sporting a large cut on his right hand. He comforted me by saying that this happens all the time and he (in fact) had done the same thing the other night and had to bust out his window, hence the cut on his hand. He provided a screwdriver and some basic instructions but was frustrated by my pace and took over the operation. He succeeded in relatching the only progress I had made. He then begin to tell me many stories that made me feel the need to leave. So I took the next step and called a locksmith who quoted me 220 dollars. I then called the landlord who recommended breaking the window. However, I would be stuck for at least a week with a open window in a neighborhood that seems more and more like a late night Fox special, so I asked if anyone else had a key. The answer is yes...And so my dear friends, I am in an internet cafe run by the Chinese Mafia, wasting away what night I can before I go to sit for eight hours in front of my apartment and wait for Monday morning.
Happy New Year
posted by jonas at 7:19 AM
4 Comments:
Hey, I think you should write a play about this night. And Neal Patrick could play you. OH! There will be dancing in all of Argos!
heh, argos
Wasn´t it nice when you were locked out of your room and you could just go through neighbor´s door and through the bathroom?
Those were the days indeed.
In Anna Smith we'd just go through our window.
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