Locked-out on a Sunday Afternoon

This is going to be a lame entry. I managed to lock myself out of my fiancée’s apartment this past Sunday. I got up a little before 12, smashed from the night before, I proceeded to the grocery store around the corner. Figured I’d grab both of us some breakfast and get myself a nice ice-cold coffee. One thing though, I forgot to grab the keys – even with my half asleep fiancee reminding me to grab them as I was leaving the apartment. It hit me right as I was walking back from the store. I went back into the building, took the elevator up to the 15th floor and knocked profusely at the door. No cell phone, no laptop, no keys to my own apartment either. I knocked for about 20 minutes and gave up knowing that there’s no way she’d hear it being as her room was upstairs with the door far away.

I took the elevator back downstairs, asked the doorman to give her a ring… straight to voicemail.. battery was most likely dead. I sat down on the plush couch in the building’s lobby took a bite of my breakfast sandwich and spat it back out into the bag… possibly the worst ‘turkey egg & cheese’ sandwich I’ve ever had. I went back to the doorman and gave her another ing, this time I left a voicemail telling her I was downstairs, locked out.

An hour later (at least I think it was an hour later – I didn’t have a watch on me either), I went back up stairs and knocked on the apartment door again. I repeated the scenario ever so often… knock on door, back downstairs, call cellphone, step out for cigarette, read some more of my newspaper, rinse and repeat.

Out of curiosity, I asked the doorman for the time, it was 4PM. Shocked how much time has gone by I once again sat back on the couch only this time, I was just going to lay there and wait. Few moments later, Natalie comes out of the elevator omg’n. No harm done, it was a sunday. I wish I napped on that couch though. It was so… plush.