Key holders are traitors

Today I locked myself out for the second time in 2 weeks. What's wrong with me. The first time was Wednesday 2 weeks ago. It was the last day of a 3-day climate conference and on that day Colombia's vice president was with us and gave a speech. The program lasted until 2 p.m. and after throwing a huge party in the university auditorium where the whole thing took place, we all wanted to have lunch together. There were probably 30 of us, but most of us went to a restaurant that had exactly 3 dishes on the menu and all of them contained scraps of tissue from tortured and murdered little cute baby pigs or chickens, so I went somewhere else with a few other people. None of us had slept much and there was the closing party in the evening, so we all went home. My roommate always comes home from work around 6 p.m. So I was home at around 3 p.m. and when I got into my room, I had the feeling that I hadn't ventilated the room in 27 months (we were partying the night before) and I, quite ignorantly, opened the window. Then I put my key on my shelf. What else you need to know: you have to unlock my room door from the outside once it's closed, but you can always open it from the inside. I actually always hang my key outside on a handle on my door, BUT it just fell out of nowhere a few days before. This key hanger is actually the real villain of this story. In any case, I wanted to use the few hours before the party to do laundry. We didn't have a washing machine for the first 3 months and had only bought one a few days before and I was soooo excited to do my first laundry (my aunt had to do it before that). Now imagine this: I'm standing in the kitchen. I just did a wash and am looking forward to being able to wear these pair of pants again. I am EUPHORIC. I take a step towards the room. I see. And listen. My room door. In front of my eyes. RANDOMLLLLLLENNNNNN. In the first millisecond I think like this: the spare key has to be somewhere. YES, IN YOUR CUPBOARD YOU STUPID NUT (no front on cashews). THE CUPBOARD THAT IS IN YOUR ROOM. So I stand in front of my bedroom door for 2 minutes with my mouth open (I don't know if it was really open but it sounds better) and every second at least 2 tequila shots worth of brain cells die because I'm thinking so hard about how I'm going to do it come into this locked room. Of course my cell phone is also in my room. First I look for a spare key in my roommate's room, it was pretty quick, he doesn't have that much stuff. Then I wonder if I can climb out of his window and into my window. Good plan, I probably would have only broken 2-4 bones. So I really only have one option: I go down to the receptionist (yes, I have a personal door opener and receptionist, he always scatters rose petals at my feet when I enter the building). So I describe my situation to him and he says quite casually: oh yes, we always use these plastic bottles, wait, I'll get one for you. So they always save old plastic bottles to crack doors with. Learned something new again. He cuts this bottle to size for me with a pocket knife and tells me that I should push this piece of plastic up and down between the door and the door frame, then the door will open. He says, just to be on the safe side, he'll ask one of these door lock-picking companies how much it costs. I run up, push this piece of plastic back and forth in my door and of course it doesn't work, so I cry for a moment. In the end, crying is still the best solution to every problem. I go back downstairs to my favorite receptionist, pretend I'm not crying and tell him: Dad, it's not possible. Without dad. He tells me to put oil on the plastic. I do. My door won't budge. My piece of plastic is already completely torn. I cut a Coke bottle apart with my new sharp knife and try again. Doesn't work. I stand there for probably 40 minutes and sometimes cry and sometimes laugh. Me out. And rub coke bottles with oil between my door frames. I'm about to call the Dings lock door service. I have one last glorious idea. I feel a bit like Wikie from Wikie and the strong men. Who came up with this name? *The rest of the story happens in slow motion* I cut apart one of my roommate's ice packs (because the plastic is thicker). Suddenly “Never an Absolution” plays in the background. I rub cheap vegetable oil on both sides of the ice pack scrap. One last desperate time I put the piece of plastic between the door and the frame. As if by magic... no joke, I stand there for 10 minutes and it is with the last of my strength that I push this piece of vanilla ice cream wrapper towards the sky. Suddenly...this fuuuuuckingggg door opens. And I've never been so proud of myself. I wanted to fulfill all of the receptionist's wishes in life. Gave him a pack of red strings. That sounds so lame omg I'm so sorry. Just writing that down was such an emotional rollercoaster. You have no idea how upset I am right now. Okay, and then the first thing I did with my newfound freedom was transfer my spare key from my closet to the bathroom. Great feeling. Guys, get the spare keys out of your rooms! They don't do anything. In any case, I can now crack any door with a Coke bottle. PS: The cover photo shows the original ice pack scrap in front of the real castle of the event!

So, this morning I woke up at 10:30 (normally 9 but was tired). I have an appointment at 11:30, take a quick shower and then somehow it's already 11:20, I have no idea how. Carlos picks me up at 11:30, so I leave the house with a fanny pack with my wallet and keys in it. That's a lie. My key is on the shelf. I realize that as soon as I leave the apartment. Oops. So I go with Carlos, but our vegan restaurant is closed. I have university at 1 p.m., so we go to my university and have lunch there. THEY CANCELED THE VEGETARIAN DISH. So I'm willing to eat something vegetarian every now and then AND THEN THEY ONLY SELL DEAD SOULS AGAIN. So I eat a cinnamon roll for lunch and Carlos eats a dead soul with wings. Carlos brought me two beers and we'll drink them with it. It's 1 p.m., I've just eaten a cinnamon roll and hit the beer. I go to class and I'm basically drunk. But I just sit on my chair and listen to a presentation and then a documentary for 3 hours. I have a huge crush on my lecturer, btw. Then I buy 2 bananas and something baked (far too much gluten today) and go to a Palestine talk and then it's already half past seven and my roommate is at home. He kindly lets me in after I spent 10 minutes on the floor outside the door because I didn't know he was already there. Luckily this time I was able to pick up the spare key from the bathroom. I was pretty proud of myself then. That was my day, it was great. For now I'll stick this key holder back on my door. Adios amiguis.