The Lock-out

The last post reminded me of another defeating day I had last week that I didn't tell you about (I try not to ruminate on my defeats). To keep a long story short, I'll just say we had a long day and finally got back home.

Now to preface this event I will tell you that our front door has a safety lock. This means the door locks automatically when you close it. There's not even a knob on the outside, just a handle. It doesn't turn, it's just like a store door. The back doors are French doors and do not have a handle on the outside either. They lock with a turn handle from the inside. One day I was trying to gather all my various things for errands I had to run that day - books to return to the library, some recycling for the recycling center, blah, blah, blah. I close the door behind me and realize the keys are still on the table. I had my phone, so I had to call Eric at work to come home and let me in. Later that day I got new keys cut to hide outside so this would not happen again.

Now the second part of the equations is that, to lock the deadbolt from the inside you have to put the key in the door in the foyer-side of the door. We do that at night. If a key is in the in-side of the lock you cannot open the door from the outside, even with a key.

I know, is this not a recipe for disaster?

So, we get home after this long day and the door will not open. I realize Vance's house key is in the foyer side of the lock. So having that extra key doesn't help me. There's no way to open it, and no other way to get in. All the windows are closed/locked, as is the backdoor. I go to Fransisky's house (our landlord. I've never been there before, but know where he lives. So this is highly unusual, and it's Sunday.)

He asks some questions and says I need a large piece of hard, flexible plastic (larger than a credit card), like the front of a large watering can (What?). He also writes down the number for a locksmith for me (this after I asked about a locksmith, and he tells me they do not have such a thing here, then tells me there is a workman who can come to your house to work on locks. Um, okay.).

I figure I can go home, use the hand tree-trimmers to cut a piece off a large tupperware I have in the garage. It just cracks. I think it was too dried out and cold. Fransisky pulls up and tries his bank card. Then he calls the locksmith.

Twenty minutes of awkward conversation and rain later, the locksmith shows up. I figure he's got an appropriately specialized tool, right? He's got a hacked up piece of clear plastic that looks exactly like it was cut from the bottom of a tupperware container! He has Fransisky push on the door while he forces it up and down the lock seam.

It's not working.

He tells Fransisky to push and pull the door. He keeps saying a word that must mean "harder" because every time he says it Fransisky shakes the door much harder like they are just going to force the door open. If the guy had not been wearing a uniform you'd swear we had a couple of bungling burglars or Laurel and Hardy on our hands. These guys were about to break the door!

Even if I had cut the plastic correctly I never would have been able to do that. Finally it pops open but squishes the locksmith's fingertips. He does a fast pacing squeezing his hand like he's trying not to yelp or curse. It cost 80Euro (About $120 American). I knew it would be expensive on a Sunday in Germany. Still, ouch. And I feel like an idiot on top of it. In fact, the cost to my pride is bigger than the cost to my bank account.

So there you go. Another day for Val in Germany. Yeah, there are many, many beautiful days too, but you always feel like a bit of a bumbling idiot. Thanks for listening. -Val