I wake up in the morning and head to work a banquet, and then head off to the Starbucks where I work, where I’ve got a closing shift for the first time.
The day goes well enough, until the very end.
It’s all a bit rushed, and we’re trying to get out on time.
Let me take a moment to explain the situation:
Everything I own is wet, so when I left this morning, I didn’t think “WOW! I’M GOING TO WEAR THESE WET CLOTHES AND PUT ON THIS WET BACKPACK!!”
No. I thought “Fuck that. It’s wet.” and got on my bike without it, and left.
I conveniently forgot that my bag is where I keep *everything*.
This is only compounded by the fact that my trousers are still somewhat *sopping*, and my only other pair of work-appropriate blacks have no pockets.
So, I get to work, and I have to borrow a back-up apron. Also, I don’t have any of the places where I usually put my stuff to keep track of everything.
(Instead, I was all ‘I’ll use my bra!’ which is a *TERRIBLE* idea for me, because I *never* put *anything* in my bra, and so I’m just not used to it *at all*.)
We get out, it’s all a bit rushed and a bit late, and everyone that I work with has left the parking lot within approximately ten seconds of us exiting the store.
When the parking lot is empty, I realize that my keys are not, in fact, in my bra.
Which means they’re in the building.
Which is locked.
And it’s nearly midnight.
And everyone is gone.
(At this point I have about 25% battery life left on my mobile.)
I’m an *idiot* who still has virtually no phone numbers for anyone I work with, let alone someone with keys. (Not that the idea of calling someone even really occurred to me.) (Well. I would have called the people who had just exited the parking lot. But, as I said. I did not have their numbers, and I’m not really terribly keen on the idea of ringing someone up at midnight to make them come in to work to let me into the office, because I’m a dipshit who can’t keep track of keys.)
I sat outside for a while, and contemplated just hanging out at the shop.
(This is absolutely what I would have done if I had A) had more battery life, or B) had my computer with me. But I’m not willing to shove a laptop into a soaking wet backpack. So, that was not an option.)
After some long minutes of contemplation (and thorough regret of thinking a bra was a proper storage place – really. Losing something means checking where you think you might have left it thoroughly, which is hella awkward when you’re standing in a parking lot, and the place it might be is down your fucking shirt.) I finally decided to call a cab.
The cab arrived, and I got about halfway back to the Vivarium before I realized not having the keys to my *bike* also means not having the keys to my *house*.
But at this point I’m already halfway home, and in the cab. So I’ve pretty well committed.
I get to the apartment, call the emergency number, and am told that my apartment complex doesn’t help with lock-outs, so I’ll need to call a locksmith.
Now, A) I am cheap, and I’ve already spent a stupid amount on a cab ride that night and B) NEVER PICK A LOCK YOU DEPEND ON. and C) I don’t feel like getting new locks?
(I clearly have no idea how actually calling a locksmith works. So. Some of these points might be completely irrelevant, but whatever, because I don’t know.)
So. It’s midnight. I’m locked out of my apartment.
I have to be back at work by 6:30 in the morning.
I think ‘fuck it, it’s pretty warm.’ and attempt to catch some sleep on my own doorstep.
(I’m super classy. It’s great.)
This is when I learn that motorcycle helmets really don’t make good helmets. At all. No matter how hard one may try.
(I did talk to the neighbours I saw that night, just to see if I could maybe get a hold of a phone charger, because at this point, I’m down to 15% or so.)
A few hours later (Or just time. I don’t know. It was all very sleep-deprived.) a woman comes running into the parking lot screaming about how she had just been assaulted, and the perpetrator had run into one of the apartments, but she wasn’t sure which one.
(I asked if she was alright, but I don’t think she heard me. Or she might have been ignoring the weirdo attempting to sleep on the stairs.)
Soon, there was a huge group of people shouting, trying to find the perpatrator, trying to find out what happened.
The cops showed up later.
(This made me nervous, because I’m self-centred, but I was *really* uncomfortable with the idea of a parking lot full of cops, and me sleeping on a doorstep outside.)
(Luckily, the cops totally ignored me. Or maybe didn’t see me. I don’t know, and I don’t particularly care.)
Some time after the cops left – the rain started.
Not gentle rain, but an encore performance of torrential downpour and flash-flooding.
At this point, it’s nearing 4:00 A.M., and I’m down to about 5% on my phone.
I know that the Starbucks opening shift starts at 4:30.
I decide to call a cab again, while I still have a charge on my cellphone.
People on the highway are averaging about 30 miles an hour because of how hard the rain is coming down.
I finally get back to the Starbucks, and wait until the rest of the opening shift get in.
I get let in to the back, go to the apron I borrowed, and rummage through the pockets.
I don’t find my keys.
I’m about to absolutely *lose my shit*, when the shift manager holds up a set of keys that had been left by the keyboard of the computer.
(Obviously. But *whatever*. Thank *fuck*.)
Now that I have my keys, all I want to do is go home.
But, the rain is still pouring outside, and there’s no way I want to bike home in it. (I *could*. It would just be highly unpleasant.*
So, instead, I get a giant cup of hot water and try to warm up.
My phone finally dies.
One of my co-workers tells me to go sleep in the corner until my shift starts, and I end up taking her up on that.
Sleeping on a Starbucks chair, curled around a cup of hot water, I am a *model* human being.