mother . . . this is a . . .

Closing the theatre tonight I walked across the street laden with four plates of food, thanks to the Kesslers who work for me at the theatre (this surprise made what had turned out to be a very decent Thanksgiving into a good one). I was exhausted. Between Wednesday and today I had worked a total of 26 hours and was looking at another 16 the next day. Realizing I had left my car parked on the street, and wanting to avoid a parking ticket, I set the food down on the countertop, turned the heat up 10 degrees to 65, and left to move my car. Pulling up out back I locked my car and approached the back door patting my pockets for the keys. Hmmmm. Not in my pant or coat pockets. I know I had them because I used them to get in the front door with the food. . . . Nope, definitely left them in the house, must have set them down on the counter with the food.




Not even trying the back door I walked around the block (yes it is still under 20 degrees and very windy) based on the sole fact that I do not remember hearing the door click shut behind me (and with the blanket tucked under the door to stop drafts it does happen on occasion). Reaching the front door I grasp the handle and pull firmly. Nothing. I repeat this pull approximately 11 time rapidly, each time a little harder with a growing growl deep in my throat. After essentially pulling off the front door handle (I’ll have Fred take it out of my deposit), I trudged back around the block to the back door. What had been an insignificant chance that I had not locked the back door was now all I had. Only gave the back door two hard tugs as it moved even less. I pause to consider my options:

Calling Fred to open the door for me
Sleeping in my car
Sleeping in the theatre
Sleeping on a friends couch
Never sleeping or being warm again in my entire life

Considering the fact that it was currently 1:03 AM, approximately 20 degrees and dropping, and that the Kesslers were still cleaning the theatre and I didn’t feel like explaining to them that their now “demon” food had gotten me to lock my keys inside my now warm house, I skipped to option 4.

Having no luck at Evan and Cassandra’s apartment I proceeded to check the only open bar downtown to see if I could find Adam. I attracted a number of strange stares but considering the fact that I was still in my shirt and tie and fuming about the fact that my heat was to be enjoyed by no one that night, and that I would still have to pay for it, I can understand why. Not finding him there I headed back down the block toward my apartment.

At this point my mind lapses back into figuring out how to get into my apartment. This was the highest I had turned the heat all winter and after exhausting my other immediate options I wanted to get back in. With the front and back doors out of commission that only leaves the elevator and the elevator shaft. The elevator could only be reached by Jimbo, who owns and operates the bar in the basement of my building, and as he was closed for Thanksgiving and also did not have a phone that I knew of, that option was also out leaving me with the elevator shaft on the roof of my building.

I started by stacking two pallets up against the side of the building two down from mine. Using them as a ladder I was able to grab the edge of the roof and pull myself up. One floor down and one to go. The attached building between this one and mine was about 8 feet up at the lowest point. Jumping up I grabbed the roofline and attempted to pull myself up again, but to no avail. At this point I silently cursed the third plate of food that I filled for Thanksgiving dinner. I jumped up again and while I had even less strength to lift I noticed an electric box off to my right that gave my legs just enough leverage to lift myself up. The 5 foot difference between this building and my own was a piece of cake and I approached the elevator shaft.

I had been on the roof a number of times before but this would be different. The doors between my apartment and the elevator shaft are the kind that lift up as the elevator rises, three long wooden panels. Typically I would lift the top two panels and prop them up with a scrap piece of metal. With those two panels taken care of I would step on the bottom one making it easier to climb onto the ladder which was mounted to the elevator shaft wall. Without this bottom panel (approx. 20 inches high) it was nearly impossible to scale the ladder as the first ladder rung was level with my upper chest. So here I am at the top, with the elevator inconveniently yet predictably stored at the main level, and the doors to my upper floor heavily closed.

As I leaned over the black abyss I could feel the heat rising from my apartment and my second wind rushed in. With my flashlight between my teeth I grabbed the ladder and swung out over the shaft. Don’t worry Matt it is only a mere 30 feet to the bottom of the elevator shaft, high chance of severe injury but very low chance of death.



I climbed down to the last rung and looked over at the door. As it seemed I needed to be even lower to reach the top section of the door I bent down and wrapped my right arm around the second to last rung and slowly lowered my dangling legs toward the door. My left foot easily reached the top section of the door but was not long enough to reach the middle one. This was not a huge disappointment as I had already decided that I would not be strong enough to get both of the panels up. I settled on the top one and hooked my toe under the edge. I was able to lift it approximately 5 inches before it slipped off my toe but I was not fast enough to get my entire foot between it and the board below it. After two more tries I got my foot in, lift it with my ankle just far enough to get my calf in and repeat the process for my thigh and hip. Resting some of my weight on the elevator door, I used my left arm to push up the top board. Deciding that I had enough space I pushed off of the ladder with my right arm and tucked and rolled through the opening. Crashing to the floor the top panel dropped shut behind me to make a picture perfect Indiana Jones escape.

Of course at this point I am sweating and so I proceed to turn the heat back down to 55 and head to bed. But not before polishing off one of the four plates of food that the Kesslers sent me home with.