Locked Out…

My son and his girlfriend and I were out enjoying a lovely dinner, when suddenly thunder and lightning flashed, followed by pouring rain,  falling harder and harder.  We were seated outside on the sidewalk,  luckily, we had an awning protecting us overhead but not enough to stop the rain from splashing back up, making us wet and cold.  Time to make a run for it!

I removed my shoes and held on to them, trying to save them from any further damage.   Now running barefoot along the sidewalks, the thought of dog urine made me cringe, too late to worry now!  We never expected to see a taxi let alone catch one, but luck was on our side.  We crammed ourselves into the backseat of the taxi, completely soaked, even for a Vancouver girl, this was crazy rain!

We arrived at our apartment building, racing up the stairs, wet and wanting to change into dry clothes.  I fumbled around in my handbag for the keys…where are my keys? OMG! where are my keys?!!  To be clear, this was my small, wallet-size handbag, there wasn’t much digging around to do.  I was beside myself, each of us had a turn looking into my handbag. The keys were definitely not there, at that moment, it occurred to me, they must have fallen out in the taxi on the way to dinner.

Omg…what to do now?  We managed to find a locksmith that would come to our rescue, it would take an hour or so until he would arrive.  It was late but our locksmith finally arrived. He assessed the work, punching numbers into his calculator, he determined it would cost 225 euros to crack open our door. Since it was late Sunday night, it would cost triple time…are you doing the math?  Yes, 675 euros to open the fucking door.  “NON-MERCI”!  He voiced a few words back to us in French and we continued to tell him that we were not paying him and that he was taking advantage of us.  The locksmith informs us that we now owe him 90 euros for his time. Here’s the thing, on the phone, dispatch told us it would cost 90 euros to complete the job, which is why we agreed for him to come in the first place. Seriously, was our conversation lost in translation?

In the meantime, I left my son, still arguing with the locksmith, mouthing to him, “just walk away”. I went next door to the “Hotel Beaugency,” a nice man was seated at reception, “parlez vous Anglais”?  I explained,  we locked ourselves out of our apartment and did he have two rooms to accommodate us?  Not only was he able to give us two rooms for the price of one, but he also comped us our breakfast and managed to find us toothbrushes.  So nice to have someone look after us instead of taking advantage of a situation.  I wish I got his name…

The next morning, my landlady organized her usual locksmith to come and unlock our door. There was a lot of drilling involved and “voila” we were in! What a relief, 294 euros later, which included a new lock.   As luck would have it, my apartment insurance will be covering the locksmith costs but not the hotel (still negotiating).  We were happy to finally be inside, the extra set of apartment keys still sitting on the kitchen table inside my son’s new attaché case, why didn’t he bring with him last night, ugh?!

We had all just finished our showers and were getting ready to set off when there was a knock at our door.  It was the building caretaker, she was dangling a set of keys, “are these yours?”  I just about died, yes, yes but where did you get them?  Apparently, the taxi driver had just dropped them off, only two hours too late, “Oh mon Dieu!”  I didn’t know the name of the taxi company but I kept hoping that by some miracle, the taxi driver would find them and return our keys. Lucky or not, our apartment address was on the set of keys, a little too late but it’s nice to know there are good people in the city of Paris.

LP

xo

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

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