Locked Out

I have always loved living on my own. The independence is empowering. Except of course in certain times like being locked out of your door with your keys inside.

I was just going to throw trash away last night when I absentmindedly locked my front door. The moment I heard the defeaning click, I knew I was in big trouble. There was no way I could go 'round my back door, unless I possessed spiderman skills, which I sadly didn't. It was locked as well, so no point in trying to bother the neighbors.

Spare keys? Yep, I got them. Just not anywhere near my place. I handed them to my aunt, in case something like this happens but I didn't think then that it could happen while I was in my sleeping clothes and had no phone or money to get me a taxi to my aunt's who lives a city away. I also did not memorize any cellphone number except my own, so, even if I could borrow a phone, I wouldn't know who to call. I've never felt as helpless in a long time.

Unless I wanted to sleep in the lobby, or break the door open with desperate kicks (which I could not guarantee would be strong enough to do the breaking), I had to find a way to get in.

Clothed in my indecent get-up, I took the elevator down to the lobby guards and begged one to break my door open. No, not through kicking. Just the lock. He must know how to do it.

He thought for a moment then broached a bright idea: call a locksmith he knows. The catch, it was going to cost P450. I didn't argue, despite feeling a bit taken advantage of (I didn't think it should have cost that much). I would pay much more just to save myself from borrowing from someone, getting into a taxi in my attire and get the extra keys from my aunt.

To cut the story short, I was able to get in and felt so relieved that I parted with my P450 without regret.

Ah, the price we have to pay for a moment of stupidity.