The Night the Keys Got Locked in the Car

An Ode to Spare Keys

The plan was simple: take the baby to the mall, and walk for a while. The weather was cold and rainy, and he had just been given a shot at the doctor's office earlier. To alleviate a cranky baby  and dodge miserable weather, the mall would be a fine distraction.

But instead of just going up to the mall, we ended up picking a fight with higher forces of irony for the better part of 2 hours. 

We went down to the car. When I unlocked the door, I placed the keys in the ignition and went to get the baby in the car seat. Problem #1 - there was no car seat. No car seat = no safe transportation. Although I admit to debating using multiple bungees and a makeshift cushion; I quickly dismissed the notion.

(This must be the most horrendously boring story to someone without a kid. But these are the dilemmas. I used to think car seats were baskets for transporting children. Now I realize there are 9 stages of them, each required by law, and at times make you feel like you're strapping John Glenn into his space ship to orbit the earth.) 

I made quick Plan B for the evening since we couldn't go to the mall. Problem was, my mind was so enamored with devising the back up plan that my physical body went into auto-pilot. Next thing I knew, all my car doors were shut, locked, and I didn't have keys to get into the car, or the apartment building. 

Things escalated quickly.

"No problem," I said out loud. I can get the spare car key out of the apartment. Problem is, my apartment keys were attached to the car keys, attached to the ignition, attached to the locked car.

I did what any self-confident and in control 26 year old would do. I called my mom. Months previous to this she worked vigilantly trying to get an extra set of apartment keys from the leasing office. She was over babysitting from time to time and needed a set to get in and out of the building when she took the baby out. 

Brrrrrrriiiiinnnnnnggggg....

"Mom," I said. "You don't happen to have that spare set of keys to the apartment..." And then I realized the forces of irony were working their magical spells. 

You see, when my mom was able to get the spare set of keys months ago, I convinced her that the smart thing to do would leave that set in the apartment for any baby-sitter to use. It wouldn't make sense for her to have them solely in her possession - until 7:03pm on a cold, rainy Tuesday night. 

There we sat, Dad and Son. Locked out of our transportation, and locked out of our shelter. We felt like two great warriors sent off to test the limits of our patience and will. We soon managed to get into our apartment building, but still were unable to get into our actual suite. Together we sat in the lobby. That's when the Kicker thought it would be a good time to play the "Ohh-look-my-high-pitched-scream-echoes-really-well-in-here" game. 

All I had left to do was call our building's after-hours line to get someone to come unlock our suite door. Should have been an easy task. But I had to call from my 4-year old, 99 cent with the contract phone that I brag to all smart phone users still works like the day I bought it. But this day, it must have used up it's last cent in value. I attempted 9 calls (literally) to the after-hours manager and the call dropped mid-conversation each time. 

By the tenth call, I spoke so fast to cram in a distress signal about being locked out without trying to be cut off again. After a colorful two hours, we were back in the apartment, and in our suite. As of tonight, my keys sit idly by positioned in the ignition of a car that is locked. 

But Father Irony wasn't done. I checked to make sure we still had our spare set of apartment keys. The key chain on the spare set of keys stood as a final punch in the nose of my pride. "Worlds Greatest Mom" it read. It was like she knew.