lock out
I knew it’d be awhile before I got into my apartment when I got in tonight, but I didn’t think I’d be held up at my front door for 45 minutes. The flight was delayed before we even left Kansas City due to Air Traffic Control in New York. We were scheduled to get in at 10pm but it was nearly 11pm by the time I got off the plane and went down to the bus stop. I should have just taken a cab. I would have but I didn’t feel like getting yelled at for taking a cab from the airport to Brooklyn. I watch a Q48 go by as soon as I get to the stop. That’s okay. I didn’t need that one. I tried taking that one once when I thought it went somewhere good but ended up going east all the way out to Korean town in Flushing at the end of the 7 line. I was two hours late meeting my friends on the Upper East Side that night but that was probably for the best considering I still amassed my worst hangover of 2004. I wait for twenty more minutes watching cars, taxis, and rental car buses pass by. I get excited every time the Avis one goes by because that’s a red bus and so is the Q33. The blue M60, my old bus, comes by and most of the people waiting at the stop climb on. It’s 41 degrees and raining so I’m actually standing inside the terminal looking out at the street. It was 85 and sunny when I left Kansas today. We spent the day at the zoo for Christ’s sake. After another 15 minutes I can tell the bus is coming. All the blue-collar airport workers who have been standing around me grab their gear and head outside. I do the same even before I see the actual bus. I know it’s coming though. It has to be. It pulls up and the doors fold open. The driver is making everyone pay this time. A lot of times they just let all the people on without paying. At first I thought the driver was just being really nice. Then I thought they did that to save time and get the bus back out on the streets faster. Later I realized that this bus goes to the subway station and 90% of the people riding the bus get off and take the subway. They could charge us on the bus at the airport and then we’d get a free transfer at the subway, or they could just let us on for free and charge us once we go down to the trains. So about 10% of the people getting on at the airport get a free ride, but most get charged anyways. This probably is done to get the bus out of the airport faster. Some people take forever swiping their Metro cards. Either they can’t find them or they’re from out of town and they don’t realize they can’t pay with dollar bills so they have to ask everyone on board if they have change. It takes forever and it’s annoying so I think the MTA is doing the right thing by cutting their losses and getting the bus out of La Guardia as soon as fucking possible. We pay tonight though and I spend the majority of the ride looking at the photos on my digital camera, until I start to get carsick. Then I just stare out the window and look for stores with piñatas. I find one almost immediately, with about a dozen varieties in the front window. Good to know. I dare not touch my phone, it’s been down to one bar since yesterday so I know it’s about to go out. Plus, I don’t feel like chatting or texting anyways. We pull next to the perpetually under construction Roosevelt Ave Station and I run down to the trains before the rain can really affect my general dryness. It’s late night and all the lines are doing weird things. The G isn’t running this far out. The F is on the local track. The E may or may not stop at 23rd St./Ely. I hope it does. That’s the only way I can catch up to the G and make it home. The first train that comes along is the F and I count that it has 10 cars. The G train only has 4. I put down my backpack and lean against the steel support beam by the track. We’re in the Hispanic part of Queens, hence the piñatas, but most of the people down on the platform are Asian. Four trains come in and out of the station on the other side of the station, the trains leaving the city, not on my side. People start to grumble about the neglect we’re getting on the Manhattan/Brooklyn bound side. I just stand there and stare and try to decide if it’s a good idea to meet up with Ivy next week or not. I haven’t seen her in eight months but what’s the point since I’m seeing someone. Another train comes rumbling in on the local track. I figure it’s the R since the E usually runs on the Express track but luckily it’s the E. That makes sense. It’s past midnight; nothing runs express this late. I get on and listen for the verdict of where this train is actually stopping. All the man says is that the train is skipping the local stops until Queens Plaza. That’s a good thing, but if it skips 23rd St/Ely as well, then I’m kinda fucked. I don’t even know what I’d do. Maybe go up and take the 7 train from Queens Plaza to 23rd St/Ely, if that’s even running. We whiz by all the local stops: 65th, Northern, 46th, Steinway, and 36th. I notice on the map that the 7 train doesn’t even stop at Queens Plaza so there goes my back-up plan. I could probably walk to the nearest 7 stop though, if I absolutely had to. We pull into Queens Plaza and I grab my bag just in case I need to spring from my seat if they say the next stop is Lexington in the city. Thank God this is a car that actually has fully functional speakers and a conductor with a nice clear voice. “This is Queens Plaza, transfers available for the R and V trains. 23rd Street/Ely Avenue next stop. Stand clear of the closing doors please.” Hell yeah, things are rolling now. In five minutes I’ll be at the station and waiting for the G train that’ll take me those last two stops down to Greenpoint. I had thoughtfully positioned myself in the last car on the E train so I’d be closest to the stairs that lead me to the G train. I go back down the stairs to the G and see that the train is there with half the doors open but many people sitting on the train. This is perfect. The way the train is running tonight, this is the first/last stop on the line. When it pulls into the station, it lets out all the people, then closes most of the doors, and then waits about ten minutes before it goes again. Since it’s crowded inside makes me think that the train has been sitting there at least 8 minutes. I walk up to the first car and jump in. The conductor gets on the train and opens the door at the front. The engines start up and a little bell goes off in the station letting everyone know the train is about to leave. All the doors are opened again and the conductor lets us all know that this is a Brooklyn bound G train to Smith Street. One more stop in Queens and then mine, the first stop in Brooklyn. The rain has let up so only the mist annoys me as I walk the 200 yards to the 107 building, which looks just like the 111 and 115 buildings. The same guy owns them all and our keys work in all three. I have to go into the 115 once a month to pay rent. I climb the four flights of stairs and put in the key. It doesn’t click to unlock which means its already unlocked which means Jiles is probably still awake and hanging out. I push the door but it hits the deadbolt. We have a non-functioning deadbolt lock above our normal lock. The landlord said if we wanted to use the deadbolt we could, but we had to pay to get the lock changed and we’d have to give them a copy of the key. We didn’t care that much about having a deadbolt so we didn’t bother with it. You can lock it, but it has to be done from the inside and the only way to unlock it is from the inside as well. So seeing that the deadbolt is engaged lets me know that someone is inside. This is only slightly annoying. I knock a few times and have my little speech planned out. Jiles did this once before, the first week we lived here and after that night we agreed we’d never use the deadbolt again. No one comes to my first knocks so I do it again. Then I try the doorbell, which actually just buzzes and keeps buzzing as long as you keep holding it down. I let out one, two, three semi-long buzzes. Nothing. I get out my cell phone and turn it on, praying that it has enough juice to at least turn on. It does and I ignore its Text indication that says I have 6 new messages. I call Jiles and after two rings it goes to voice mail. I’m not sure if that means he has it turned off or on. Mine goes to voice mail immediately if it’s off so I’m thinking his is on but just set to go to voice mail after one or two rings. I call again and this time leave a message saying I’m outside and locked out. I try sending a text message, all the while buzzing the buzzer. I figure I have enough charge to make three or four brief calls so I start thinking about how to use those. I’ve left a message on Jiles’ phone so it’s pointless to call him again. I could try the house phone and hope the cordless phone is somewhere near whoever is asleep in there. I could start to line up a place to stay if nothing gets resolved over here. I send Frank a text asking if he’s in town. Wendy doesn’t get Text Messages so I actually call her but it goes straight to voice mail, she’s probably out of the country. I call Angel but that goes straight to voice mail too. Oh yeah, she’s going down to Miami tonight and on a cruise tomorrow. Those are pretty much the only options I have for places to sleep. It’s nearly 1am and I wouldn’t want to call up anyone else at this hour. I could go back to the airport and sleep there but then I’d just have to come back in the morning and get ready for work. No, there is obviously someone passed out inside and I just have to wake them up. I buzz a long buzz. I buzz SOS in Morse code. I buzz a series of short annoying buzzes. I can hear it echoing throughout the building and I know some of my neighbors can hear it as well. I wish I knew the next-door neighbor, we share the fire escape and we always keep that window unlocked. I know the lady has a five-year-old kid so I can’t knock on her door at this ungodly hour. I buzz nursery rhymes. I buzz shave and a haircut. I buzz techno songs. I buzz Ebony and Ivory. Nothing. Since our building key works in the other two buildings next door I take a step back and make sure this is really my apartment. Perhaps I’m in the wrong building. I check for the scratches on the door and the piece of peeled paint. They’re both there. I look over at the neighbors’ welcome mat. Yeah, I’m definitely in the right building. I check my phone to see if anyone has sent me a Text back. I call the house phone and hear it ringing from inside. As it rings I also buzz intermittently. I leave a message when the answering machine picks up. I go back to buzzing. I try the ten second long buzz and then a series of buzzes where they get longer and longer. I’m tired, frustrated, and really have to pee. I’m starting to see this door as a puzzle to figure out. I bet if I can find the right sequence of buzzes the door will just open. I try dozens of patterns. It’s just a MENSA problem I keep telling myself. I get out my phone and try the house phone again while I try “Mary had a little lamb”. The answering machine comes on again and I hang up just as my cell gives me the Low battery warning. I text Jiles and cuss at him. I never once thought that maybe he was unconscious or dead inside the apartment. I thought of everything else. I thought maybe a friend was staying over and was afraid to answer the door. I thought maybe he was having sex and didn’t want to be bothered. I thought maybe he was in the shower and couldn’t hear the buzzing. I thought maybe something bad had happened this weekend that caused him to change the deadbolt lock and actually start using it. Maybe I could just go down to the street, stand on a garbage can, jump up to the fire escape ladder, and go up that way. I bet I can make one last call before the phone goes out. I should just call Aly and tell her what I’m going through. That won’t do me a lick of good but at least I won’t be in it alone. No, it’s best to just not call anyone in case someone tries to call me. I go back to trying to break the buzzer code. Short, short, long, long, short, long, long. Nope. Long, long, long, short, short, short, short, short, short, short, short, short, short. Nope. Short, long, short, long, short, long, short. I hear a noise. It could be the neighbors coming out to kill me. I buzz one more short buzz just in case it was someone stirring in my apartment. Immediately the lock clicks and the door opens. A very sleepy looking Jiles is standing there and wiping his eyes. I’m so relieved to be inside and to have access a bathroom that I don’t yell at first. I piss and then tell Jiles what I’ve been up to for the past forty-five minutes and he asks why I didn’t knock. Well, why the fuck didn’t I think of that? I tell him that I did knock repeatedly as well as call his phone, text his phone, call our house phone, and everything else I could think of. He apologized and said it must have been his girlfriend that locked the deadbolt. That just confused me. How the hell could TWO people not hear forty-five minutes worth of buzzing, phones ringing, and knocking? I didn’t even want to know. I went to my room, but not before putting tape over the deadbolt so nobody would ever lock it again.