If you’ve read at least a few of my posts it’s painfully apparent that I don’t get out much. Last weekend was a perfect example of why.
Disclaimer: Post contains first world problems.
Last Friday my roommate and I had plans to head downtown to see her co-worker’s band. Seeing as they describe themselves as “a mix of everything” my expectations for an enlightening and harmonious evening were not high. If nothing else it was a chance to get out of my slovenly apartment and how could I say no to that?
The first sign that I should have heeded that this night was a folly was my work schedule. I have worked plenty of Fridays in the last few months. Very few of those Fridays have been evenings but here I was scheduled till closing. It took some convincing for my manager to allow me to come in early so I could get off in time to make the show but ultimately my charm and infallible negotiation skills won out. The deal was I would come in early and leave after I had finished ordering, printing and putting out all of the next weeks sale signs.
I arrived at work shortly after noon to find my task had been stalled by my co-worker’s failure to finish their own. In order to make and put out the new signs the management team has to first put the merchandise on sale. This should already be done by the time I show up to work. As I was early and my manager did not adjust his regular routine, I couldn’t start until nearly an hour after I had arrived.
It takes about 6 hours for me to update all the stores signage not including a half hour meal break so it was about 7:15 by the time I was able to leave work. In that period of time In what felt like a near constant state of delay from the 20+ customers who forced me on many detours into stupidity such as trying to return cough medicine they didn’t like the taste of, and wanting to know which aisle of a drug store has hardware supplies. How I managed to keep the “fuck you”s that tickled the tip of my tongue from slipping through the corners of my mouth I will never know.
The doors for the show opened at 7 and the show it’s self began at around 9. It would take around 40min to brave the transit system and arrive at the bar so I was in a mad rush to change and get myself presentable for the Vancouver nightlife.
After touching up my make up and applying 4 layers of deodorant, the two of us made our way to the nearest skytrain and settled in for the ride, making family inappropriate jokes and speculating about our fellow passengers. We made it all the way to Granville when I froze. I had forgotten my ID.
I remembered opening my wallet to extract the cash, not wanting to have to worry about a bag, and mentally telling myself to grab my ID but I could not recall actually removing it from the card slot. When I told this to my roommate she urged me to check but as I already knew it was currently sitting at home in my purse which I so wisely chose not to bring.
My roommate texted her co-worker to see if he could still get us in. No go. There was no way I could go back and get it. By the time I’d make it back the show would be over. We stopped to eat, my roommate ready to throw the towel in and head back with me. She’d been so excited for this all week. Far more so than me. She’d even made a T-Shirt with her own design to support her buddy’s band. Being the incredible friend I am I told her to go without me and that I’d see her at home. Second mistake…
We parted ways and I got back on the skytrain to go home. Of course I didn’t bring my ipod, or a book or any sort of entertainment as I’d planned to be taking this ride much later in the night with my friend for company so I spent most of the trip dodging eye contact from this greasy looking guy across the car.
40min later I got off the train and stopped in the grocery store to pick up some comfort food as the plan that I concocted on the train to salvage the night was to curl up with my softest pyjamas and binge watch RuPaul’s Drag Race while stuffing my face and dreaming of one day growing up to be half the woman they are.
I needed something sweet to cleanse the bitter taste of my own incompetence from my mouth. Of course I go with a frozen desert because Haggen Daz’ green tea and honey ice-cream may as well be made with crack for how much willpower I have when confronted with it through the freezer door. The gift of hindsight reveals that this craving may have been largely charged by PMS as I would get my period not four days later.
With my ice-cream I headed for the bus loop. Turns out I had missed the bus by no more than two minutes and the next wasn’t for another hour. I live pretty close to this skytrain station. Maybe a fifteen minute walk away. This walk however is all up hill. And when I mean up hill I mean a trek up a small mountain. The hill I live on top of is retardedly steep and doesn’t start to even out in the slightest for at least 2 of the 4 blocks it takes me to get to my street. That’s two blocks of walking at what has to be a 75 degree angle. In the winter it’s basically The Widow Maker. It’s a fucking monster and I already climbed it once that day. Never the less, rather than wait around for a half hour I warmed up with a few lunges and headed upwards.
I was about two blocks from home when I had my second soul crushing, fuck me, revelation of the night. I went into flashback mode and saw myself shrugging on my jacket and asking my roommate if I needed my keys. She jingles her own set at me so I left mine on my dresser.
I never grabbed her keys from her. I nearly never leave my apartment without my keys so whether or not I had them never crossed my mind before I left her outside the bar. Clearly it never crossed her’s either.
I tried to remain calm. I could call my building manager to let me in my apartment, he has keys. Normally that would be the end of that except that my building manager had recently left and it was only the day before on Jan. 1st that I’d met the new guy, who’s number I did not have. Not the end of the world, I could just buzz his apartment. And I did. Once. Twice. Three times. No response. Either he doesn’t have his speaker hooked up or he just isn’t answering.
I called my roommate not sure if she would even answer the phone and knowing that even if she left right then and there I would be sitting outside for another 45min minimum before she got home. It was fucking freezing outside too.
“So, how am I supposed to get in the building?”
“Oh, shit! I didn’t give you my keys! The show is ending so I’ll be home as soon as I can.”
“I’m freezing my ass off.”
“When I forget my keys I climb up the white railing onto the first floor roof. My window isn’t locked.”
If only she was present she would have seen the look of complete and utter disbelief I was sending her way at that statement. Never mind she leaves her window unlocked, how the fuck did she think that I would be capable of climbing onto the roof. We’re on the second floor and in order to get to this railing she parkours off of, you have to get up on this cement half wall thing that’s on either side of of the downward stairs that go to the lobby entrance. There’s hedges on one side and about a 1.5 meter drop on the other. On top of the cement wall there is a thin white railing about half a meter long, like the kind you find on a balcony.
I’m not gonna lie to you. I do not have the body of an Olympic gymnast. My roommate is far more athletic and thinner than I am. The fact that she thinks I am capable of climbing up there without breaking my neck is ridiculous.
Not that I didn’t think about it. I inched my way along the cement platform and made it to the railing before I said “NOPE” and got the fuck down.
I sat outside for a while. The one positive thing about it being as cold as the underside of a white walkers ball sack was that at least my ice-cream wouldn’t melt. The downside was that I might loose a toe.
After about 25min. a lady finally comes along and goes towards the entrance and I tell her I’ve forgotten my keys and locked myself out to which she only replies, “I don’t live here. I’m visiting”. She eyes me suspiciously before buzzing her friend and shouting crudely into the speaker “let me in” three times before the door unlocks. Warily she holds the door open and gestures for me to come in. I thank her and go upstairs. I walk past my apartment and stop in front of the building manager’s door. I knock once. Twice. Three times. No response. The next day I learned he hadn’t moved in yet.
Defeated I sat outside my door and waited for my roommate to show up while my ice cream melted. My only solace was that I now had access to my WiFi. Luckily I was only seen camped out in the hallway by one of my nameless neighbours and he wasn’t that one cute guy with the glasses down the hall.
When she finally got home she gushed about her show, apologized for my terrible night, and tried to make jokes but I was beyond good humour. I put my ice-cream in the freezer and headed for my bedroom to change out of my wasted attire and what I discovered made me roll my eyes. I’d been running around with my underwear on inside out all day. Of course I was.