Guys, this is a REAL TIME SITUATION. IT JUST HAPPENED. ARE YOU READY? (I am well aware that when I say real time, this will get posted 10-12 hours later. Not at all real time. Thanks for calling me out.)
(Aww, cahmmm ahhn guys! I promise it's a good story!)
So, after this ridiculous weekend, I realized I needed to cool it Monday/Tuesday before I head to New York. It doesn't hurt that my Monday night schedule usually allows me to go to the gym (blech, gross), make dinner (make an omelet, duh), and watch RuPaul's Drag Race (because I am a flaming homosexual)... all things that allow me to "cool it."
I decided to be a little more productive on this fine Monday than I normally am. Since I am going to NY in two days (Drinking game: Drink every time I mention NY... also for every time I have already mentioned it. Let's get schwasted!) I decided that I needed to do laundry and straighten up my apartment after I went to the gym. I even tweeted about it so the whole world would know I was doing laundry. I'M RESPONSIBLE.
(I'm clever and realistic.)
In all of these adult-like activities that I was doing, I decided to try and multi-task. (You know, because I have a record of being smooth and adept to situations enough to multi-task -_-) I grabbed the overflowing recycling bin in my apartment and was taking it down to switch my laundry since they are all in the basement. The laundry room is locked with a key that all residents have and the recycling is around the corner. (I promise, this is all important.) As soon as I dragged the recycling out of my apt and closed the door, I realized... I had locked myself out.
(O-Face or being shocked...or BOTH?)
I wasn't even surprised, to be honest. There was a moment of "What the fahk? REALLY WORLD? Thanks, Obama." Then I had to figure out the next best move, which meant to call the roomie, KG. Being the amazing half-Jew that I am, I forgot that it was Passover. Meaning he was at a Seder. Meaning he wasn't coming home anytime soon. MEANING I WAS FAHKED.
I decided to call the emergency management company to come and let me into my apartment. The conversation doesn't exactly go the way I planned.
Me: Hi, so I was an idiot and locked myself out of my apartment.
Responder: We can fix this. We will send a tech over as soon as we can.
Me: Awesome, do we have a timeframe on this?
Responder: As soon as we call someone, and then however long it takes them to get to you.
Me: Oh, so, like, no timeframe?
Responder: No, unfortunately, I don't.
Me: What if I told you there was a baby in the apartment?
Responder: Do you have a child in the apartment?
Me: Would that make them arrive faster?
Responder: I would advise you to call the police to get the fastest response.
Me: Would you say the same response if I told you I left my stove on with boiling water?
Responder: Yes.
Me: ... and three candles?
Responder: Are any of these situations real, sir?
Me: No, I will be in the lobby in all my glory.
Responder: Are you nude? I would tell you to wait in the stairwell then.
Me: NO! I'm not an animal!
Responder: Okay, I'm going to hang up now and call the tech to get over to you.
I don't do well in situations with indefinite timeframes attached to them. I can honestly tell you that I said all of these things in the hopes that the emergency apartment responder would tell me that someone was coming in 5 minutes. PART of my fear in all of this was that I was dressed in my "giving up clothing." (This entails an oversized sweater, short gym shorts... short, and a gay rights T-shirt. I am constantly winning.)
Face burning red, I grabbed my recycling and brought it down to the lobby. I didn't at any point think that maybe I should take my recycling down and empty it while I waited for an unknown period of time. No, instead, I sat in the lobby in my "giving up clothes" as people traipsed in and out, judging me and my massive pile of recycling.
(Ashley Olsen wears my giving up clothes out in public. She is worth millions. I think I am doing things wrong.)
I waited for a solid 45 minutes. I met neighbors for the first time, who decided that the homeless looking gay man with all of the recycling obviously looked like he wanted to meet people. They all made a variation of the same joke involving waiting for my "roommate," "significant other," or "special friend," while mentioning that if I waited much longer, I'd have to sleep in the lobby. I fake chuckled at every single one of them, silently rueing the day they were born.
Finally, when the tech showed up, he had the audacity to discuss his journey to the building.
Tech: Wow, I am surprised I made it here so fast. I definitely thought it would be after 10 p.m. by the time I got here.
(Biiiitch, please.)
Once I remembered that it wasn't his fault that I was sitting in the lobby, I pulled back the snarky bitch vibe I was giving off and tried to get through the process. After all was said and done, I was out $25, and I am pretty sure that most of my apartment building has an intimate knowledge of how I parade around my apartment. (I also need to get longer shorts to do my laundry in.)
Laundry: Not worth the pain
Responder: Not having it
Tech: Not as smooth as he thinks he is
Fabulously Lost: Failed at being a grown-up
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