You know how you have those moments in your life where you're like, "If only I'd taken the other elevator!" or "Oh my gosh I could have been on that plane, but I had to check my deodorant situation and ended up missing my flight and because I care about my body odor I didn't die!" Those moments? Well, I had one of those the other morning.
Ok, maybe it wasn't as serious as that, but it was pretty close. Or. . . it was looking at close from atop a mountain range with high visibility binoculars, but still - it could see it.
Anyway, it's 9am and I'm cooking chicken, and plugging in my iron, and turning on my hair straightener - because I like to do all hot things at once. If I had a dryer in my apartment that would be going too. Unfortunately, my timing was a little off and I had too much waiting for things to heat up time, so I decided I was gonna be even more productive and take the trash out (because Regis and Kelly was on commercial), and I get to the elevator and somehow - like by sheer force of gravitational evil - my keys leap out of my hand and fall down the mother loving elevator shaft. It was like a movie where something falls and you just wait to hear the crash, I don't know what I was waiting for - like maybe if I don't hear it, it didn't happen and the keys are still in my hand?
But I heard it.
Luckily, I was supposed to meet my manager right around that time anyway, and about thirty seconds later she comes out of the elevator looking mighty pissed. Then she sees me and says:
"I just dropped my keys down the elevator shaft."
Uh...what now? I think I actually spun around like, did I just say that and it came out of her mouth?
"No," I started. "I dropped my keys down the elevator shaft."
Pause where she looked at me much like I was looking at her.
"Just now?" she asked.
"Yeah, that's why I'm standing here in my pj's with Quiet Riot hair."
"Shit. I just dropped mine down there."
"Who is gonna let me into my apartment then?"
She shrugged, "We could try to lift the elevator?"
"We could try to lift the elevator?"
That's when I realized I was never getting back in. I would be stuck in my sister's 'Class of 2000' t-shirt, boxer shorts with bears on them, and black business socks forever. Correction - black business socks with bright orange bottoms, because that's what happens to them when you mop your floor with something bleach laden and then walk across it before you rinse it down. James was going to burn himself on my straightener, run to the kitchen sink for safety and water, trip on my iron which would land on my curtain, setting the whole place ablaze, and then, because it's on and I'm not there to watch it, the oven would explode.
"Well, shit," she said again. "Do you have anywhere to be today?"
"Just work."
She looked me up and down. "I guess you could wear my sweater."
"Can't we call a locksmith?"
"My phone is locked in my office, is yours hiding in your (**more looking my attire over**) hair?"
"No."
"Well, then this might be a while."
"But my cat and all the hot things!" I yelled at her.
"You have a cat?"
"No."
And thank god, before she could tell me cats were illegal in my building someone walked out of what was supposed to be her locked office and scared the bejesus out of us. Turns out her office wasn't locked after all, spare keys were found, and after what seemed like the longest elevator ride ever, I got into my apartment which was in tact and James was casually sleeping in my backpack like 'What? Oh it's just you. That chicken smells done.'
She didn't manage to lift the elevator herself, but the handy elevator people did it and got our keys back, along with a can of Budweiser (which is apparently a magic shape shifting can). And this is why I'll be glad when I move, because my elevator can summon things at will, and if I have to go to work one more time in my pjs I'm afraid people are gonna start to talk.
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