I'm dog-sitting for a friend while she is in Italy for the week. Last night I got in from walking the dogs at around 9, ordered Indian food for delivery, and sat down with my laptop. I was reading about Feliz's "shoulder inflammation" and starting the add/drop process when the food arrived. I opened the apartment door and tried to hold it open with my foot while I opened the door to the outside. As I got my food, the apartment door slipped past my foot and shut...locking me out. No keys. No wallet. No money. No phone. No coat. No shoes.
I borrowed a passerby's cell to call the landlord at the number she had posted in the hallway. Not in service. I couldn't call my friend in Italy, because her Italian cell phone's number was written down in the apartment. I pried at windows, tried to pick the lock, and considered breaking down the door. I found a pair of golashes in a closet in the hallway that happened to fit me, and started knocking on doors. No one else was home in the other two apartments in her building. Her neighbor let me in, and even let me into their backyard so I could hop the fence and try to get in through the backdoor - locked. They let me use their phone to call my wife at work and ask her to take a cab to pick me up when she got out. The neighbor, an 85 year old man with an apartment that smelled of urine, invited me to watch Law and Order while I waited. I politely declined and sat outside the apartment until Kate came.
As I sat, with a great view into the apartment and of my laptop sitting on the table, ESPN open on the screen, I started to hear a beeping from inside. It was 10:30, and the alarm that I set on my phone to go off every Saturday to remind me to add and drop players was going off. I watched the phone beep and beep until the battery died, and watched my laptop sit on the add/drop screen until 11 PM passed. I ate cold Indian food without a fork and sat until midnight when my wife arrived and took me back to our apartment.
This morning I got into the apartment with the help of an emergency locksmith, for a rather reasonable fee of $105. I took the very anxious dogs outside, then sat down to see Andrew had added Oliver, who got the first save opportunity. I hated him a little, quietly.
This afternoon I got an email from my friend in Italy, in response to the frantic email I sent her when I got home last night, telling me where to find her spare key outside of the apartment.
And that's the story of why I didn't pick up Darren Oliver last night. I totally would have bid $6, too.
