Like I mentioned earlier, this morning started off just like any other. Except for the fact that it's spring break, the entire building is empty, and I had to wake up to the annoying sound of my roommate's alarm clock that I had stolen the night before. The reason for this malfeasance is none other than the fact that my cell phone alarm was out of commission due me having left the charger at Erin's apartment. As I bashed the unfamiliar alarm with an apathetic fist and crawled out of bed, I realized that it was a beautiful day outside, so I decided I would put on my cycling gear and go for a nice long bike ride. It had been quite some time since I last was able to get a good ride in, so needless to say I was in a good mood and excited to get some fresh air slash exercise. Before I set out, I made the wise decision to make a quick stop at Erin's place first, so I could simultaneously rescue my forgotten phone charger and complete my only bi-daily chore of the week, which is feeding our newly acquired pet fish. So I put on my nifty cycling shoes, filled my nifty cycling pockets with keys and a dead cell phone, and set off to what I thought would be a nice bike ride.
Approximately seven minutes later I found myself outside the door of Erin's apartment, fumbling awkwardly with the two keys she had left me on her key chain. Upon closer examination, one key was almost certainly a mailbox key, so I instinctively selected the other for the use of door unlocking. The key slid into the keyhole easily enough, but the real trouble manifested during the 'unlocking' segment of the process. I don't claim to be a key expert or anything of the sort, but I am generally of the thinking that if the key doesn't turn, then you've got yourself a problem. Initially, I was optimistic that the issue wasn't necessarily my key repertoire, but rather some type of user error on my part. So next followed a period of time I have affectionately named "Key Time," due to its obvious association. Key Time consisted mainly of about ten to fifteen minutes of myself experimenting with different methods of key use, several angles of attack involving either of the keys left to me, and even a couple complex procedures utilizing both keys in intricate unison. It's very safe to say that I made absolutely no progress during Key Time. Additionally, my previous hypothesis of user error was nulled into bloody submission by around the time the appropriately raced lawn mower guy made his third lap or so, eying me suspiciously.
At this point my determination was well spent. I was being forced to slowly accept the fact that I would have to go on living a destitute life, unconnected from society through Sprint's acclaimed largest mobile network in the world, all because I couldn't unlock my girlfriend's apartment and her roommates were no longer there to let me in. Oh, and the fish. I was worried about the fish too. Because, you know, I wouldn't be able to feed him and stuff.
I slowly and sullenly mounted my bicycle and peeked back behind me, as if my slow sullenness was somehow the answer to this riddle, half expecting to see the the door suddenly swing wide open. What I saw instead was a green door, piercing my soul with its gaze, mocking me with its ever vigilant doortitude. I gave a shrug and released a small sigh of defeat, and set off for the dorms, no longer wanting to continue on my bike ride.
I had only reached the first stoplight before my usual guile and resourcefulness returned to me after being unexpectedly shattered by the evil green door. I urged myself to remember that I was indeed a problem solver, and that I shouldn't just give up so easily. So then I turned my spandex mantled little toosh around and rode off at a hugely unnecessary speed toward the apartment complex office.
When I arrived, I gingerly dismounted, parked my bike (again gingerly) against the window, and proceeded to enter the building with a stride boasting the confidence that comes with a full spandex body suit. Upon my arrival, the three humans inside looked up at me and all made their own interpretations of the face that you might see someone make when they open up the oven after many hours of preparation, only to find a result that is very much not the one expected. This might have been because I was wearing a full spandex body suit. It also might have been because I was wearing a full spandex body suit and also offering to them all my best guess at how Zorro would vehemently smile, after having just kicked down a bedroom door to reveal The Don about to have his way with Zorro's lover against her will. Whatever the case, I had everyone in the room's undying attention.
"Um, can I help you out with somethin?" stammered the first human. Before I responded, I quickly took in my surroundings, and assessed the situation in order to deem what approach would be best. I ended up going with the 'Beloved Hero In Need" approach. Needless to say it worked fervently. After the small task of explaining the situation to the apartment people and winning over their hearts with my boundless charm and charisma, they eventually decided that I probably wasn't some criminal mastermind interested in robbing apartment D43 blind. They told me that they could let me into the apartment with Erin's permission and proceeded to call her cell. At last! I had finally come to a point throughout this long tedious process when victory was almost within my grasp! However, Erin being the naturally free spirit that I have grown to love, naturally, failed to pick up the phone at this moment of intense plot culmination.
At this point I was finally at a loss of what to do. They had left Erin a message, so not much was left to do seeing as I was an individual without a working cell phone, AKA a useless and pathetic waste of carbon structuring. I was getting ready to take permanent residence in the office lobby, when the genius idea struck me to have them call Megan, my girlfriend's roommate. She was undoubtedly with Erin, since she had only 16 hours previously embarked on a journey to visit her in CA. Alas, contact is made, and I am finally allowed into the apartment. I rejoice like it's 1999. Unfortunately though, they can't give me a key or anything, so I am left with no choice but to take the beloved fishy with me back to my dorm, despite the unknown dangers that could potentially manifest while transporting a fishbowl via bicycle.
And so now we find ourselves at the beginning of this narrative. Surprisingly enough, I am thrilled to find that I am actually quite adept at riding a bicycle while carrying a large, awkward bowl of water. Not only that, but I can actually wave and smile cordially at those passerby that are bemused by the sight of a grown man riding a road bike while carrying a fish in a bowl. And also interestingly enough, I received a decent number of smiles by said passerby as well.
The real kicker to this entire ridiculous story however is what took place when I reached the safety of my dorm room after this whole ordeal. I end up talking to Erin on the phone for a bit, and we are generally confused and amazed at how I ended up minus one apartment key, as it was firmly snug on its ring when she gave it to me. A little befuddled, I hangup the phone and promptly tear apart my room looking for this friggin key. Eventually, I find the key in question packed tightly into one of the many secret pockets of my extravagant hikers pack, which I employ for day to day use. Obviously, this was a very interesting discovery. Not only did this key escape from it's ring somehow, but it also managed to hide itself in a place where I could very well have never found it again had I not been prompted by an intense need to search. This leads me to two different possibilities. Possibility A proposes that I have somehow offended magical backpack pixies, and they have enacted a vendetta for revenge by filling my days of spring break with immeasurable nuisance. Possibility B proposes that I have somehow, unknown to my active consciousness, tampered with the key in order to impose this misfortune upon myself for some profound reason. This might actually be the more plausible proposition, provided the fact that I indeed have a history of doing really weird things while sleepwalking.
So, now that you are aware of the extremely interesting course of events that somehow manged to find me today, please feel free to offer any sort of explanation that might make sense to you, seeing as I have been able to find none. Additionally, I wanted to thank any readers that managed to somehow find this first blog post of what I hope to be many. I also hope that they will continue to be as interesting and uselessly entertaining as this one has been.
