Oh, you’re locked out? It’s okay. We’ll call the police.

What happens when you lock yourself out of your house or apartment in America?  Someone always has an extra key right?  Here’s how it has gone for me in the past 6 or so years:

– At home – I get locked out.  I have to wait for my brother or someone to come bring me an extra.  When I was very young, a neighbor always had an extra.

At college (dorm) – Safety and Security.  Everyone hated making the dreaded trudge the whole .1 miles across campus to get their extra room key.

In England (apartment) – I would wait for one of my 7 roommates to return.  It was bound to happen sooner or later.

At college (apartment) – I would ride my bicycle to go find one of my roommates.  One of them was usually in the library.  That one was never Scott.

In Cili (China town 1) – Jon had an extra.  He lived 2 steps away from my door.  If he wasn’t there, then Richard had another extra.  Richard lived downstairs.  If Richard wasn’t there, his door was still unlocked.  Easy.

In Changsha (China town 2):

– There’s only one extra, and that is in the possession of Miss Zou, my boss/landlord.

– Miss Zou is where?  Somewhere far away.  And the key?  It’s at her house?  Where is her house?  Her house is far away.  Far away from the school, and far away from where she currently is.  What’s my other option?  Call the police.

– We call the police.  20 minutes later (a world record…it must be) a man shows up on his motorbike.  I am jealous.  I want one.  We walk up the 5 flights of steps only to discover that the man’s tools are useless.  The only way to get in is to break the door down.  I remember back to what my friend, Halina, said last year:  It’s a bit disturbing how easily someone can break into my apartment.–It took her a slightly longer amount of time to lock herself out (about 9 months compared to me 2 weeks), and a man broke into her room by poking out the peephole and sticking some tool through it and pulling up on the door handle.  Fortunately, it’s not that easy to break into my apartment.  Unfortunately, that meant I had to go downtown (50 minutes by bus) and wait for Miss Zou to bring the key.

“What do you do in America when someone gets locked out,” I was asked.  Well…we don’t call the police.

In most recent news, besides locking myself out:  I caught the mouse.  He was still alive and stuck to the sticky cardboard.  It was absolutely terrifying.  I definitely gasped in horror upon discovering it.

And most importantly, I am going back to Cili again.  But this time for more than 23 hours.  Possibly 48.  Okay.  I must get going.  I’ll update again upon my return, as there are many things I still need to write about.


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