Quyen Guest Posts Again!

The following is not exactly a poor decision, because no conscious decision was made. It is a story of one unfortunate misaction that placed us precariously between utter disaster and return to blissful normalcy. Fiance and I were visiting the Inner Harbor in Baltimore on one fall Saturday evening. We love to save on parking (please refer to shoe story), therefore we parked on a creepy side street that was deserted and dark (EDITOR'S NOTE: THIS SOUNDS EXACTLY LIKE A POOR DECISION TO ME). Such is how most unfortunate events are born. On this crisp fall night, the Harbor was pleasantly crowded, happy, and vibrant. We walked along boats, restaurants, food shops. We danced on benches and filled the air with laughter. It was a perfect date. Fiance even bought me delicious ice cream before the stand closed. Several cell phone pictures later, we were ready to head back to the car. Back at the car, Fiance let out a gasp.

"I don't have my keys."

Wide eyes. Shock. Repeat the question? How do you not have your keys? We drove here using them didn't we? Heading home safely became an extinct concept. Nearby, a homeless man vomited into a trash can. There was only one logical thing to do: trace our steps. Well, the keys weren't under the driver's side of the car, nor was it on the street, along the harbor, under our benches, in the ice cream stand. Neither ice cream vendor nor policemen on bikes had a clue as to the whereabouts of our keys. But the policemen did suggest enlisting the services of a locksmith or a tow truck.

Eventually, we waded through the happy Inner Harbor guests, restaurants, and food stands and headed back to our creepy side street. The homeless man was now slumped down on the side of a building. We sat on the hood of the car, which, at that time, was just as good as sitting in the car. Except it wasn't going to take us home that way. My mind traveled back to Pittsburgh, to our apartment building, to Fiance's bedroom, in which was a dresser whose first drawer housed an envelope containing THE SPARE KEY! I imagined a scenario where we had our friend Sarah would be let into our building by the landlord where she will pick up the key and mail it to us....overnight? Well that wasn't going to whisk us from our plight that night.

I also considered scenarios of our poor car left on the side street, come daylight accumulating parking tickets and boots. And us skipping the next several days of school, spending hundreds of dollars to tow the car and have a new spare key made or...ask our friend Sarah to be let in to our apartment by the landlord...you know how it goes. The options were endless; but they were all terrible.

Fiance was now calling towing companies. I was pacing in the 10 foot segment of the sidewalk that contained our car. I saw a man pop out of a door down the street taking a smoke break. The door was a side door of the hotel on the corner and the man was a valet guy. I walked towards him, my steps picking up as I wildly considered the possibility that he may have seen our keys. But when I asked him he didn't know. He said, "Check with the receptionist."

I think that for most receptionists, "Did someone drop off a set of car keys that they found on the street?" is a rare question. But on that night, it was a perfectly valid question because "of course, the keys are right here, we didn't know whether to expect anyone to come get them."

And that is how we got home safely as though nothing had happened.

-----Quyen