Is there any greater indignity than losing your keys and being stuck outside like a prick, while a busload of Middle Eastern's ferry passed you, moving in large items of furniture? This was my Friday night.
After getting up early to go into university (that's right, early, you heard it here first), Lori and I went our seperate ways that evening - I went to football practice, the first one of the year, scored two goals, one on a half volley, missed more, ended up on my arse a whole lot - Lori went with her friend to a vegeterian society meeting, which I have no problem with except, she isn't a vegeterian, I was expecting her to call me sobbing, that they'd smelled meat on her, tarred and feathered her, and slung her out. No such luck. Anyway, as we were parting these famous words were uttered "You've got your keys right, cause I'm not taking mine." "No problem," I thought, "they're here in my bag" WRONG! They most certainly weren't. So after a gruelling practice I roll home, hoping to sit in a hot bath, and then get a jump on the housework before Lori got home, instead I'm faced with locked door. Infernal Buggery. So, its 9:00 at night, you're locked out, your girlfriend, who will also be locked out, won't be home for hours, no one in my building speaks English, what do you do? I've got it, run to the local convenience store and ask for the yellow pages? Brilliant! So I do just that, I get there just as its closing, and a quite lovely, but way too concerned, shop girl let me use their phone to call a get in touch with a locksmith to come and let me in. Sadly, the closest locksmith is 45 minutes away, (aside: the dispatcher kept calling me "Boss," "Guv'nor," and strangely "Chief" all in a 2 minute call, I didn't quite know what to say to that) so I ran back to my house and sat on the stairs, waiting for him to get in. Why me God? Why?
Cue the ethnic minorities!
So, I'm sitting there, feeling ridiculous still in shin pads and socks, smelling of stale sweat, and (most likely) fear - when a gaggle of Middle Eastern chaps descend on my building, with the biggest bookcase I've ever seen, it was massive. They were moving into the flat across from mine, and apparently needed a hand, so I held the doors and massaged this massive hunk of wood around corners for them. Never have I felt more ridiculous, and I mean never...not even when I saw myself rocking out on that Korn video....I was sweaty, tired, grumpy, locked out for approaching 2.5 hours, and was now helping people that spoke no English weave a massive book case up three flights of stairs. Why me God? Why?
So, the locksmith eventually came, walked right up to the door, pulled a plastic sheet out of his tool box, swooshed it through the lock, bingo it opens. Hooray! 89-pounds! $230! 10 minutes work! The old credit card trick! Why me God? Why?