Breaking and Entering, part 2

When we last left me, I was embarassed and standing in a motel lobby. And I stand there a LONG time. Until, finally, a nice looking old man comes down the stairs and says he'll be right with me. I am instantly at ease because I love old people. And I'm sure that this guy will be like my Grandfather only not.

Cue the cold laugh of irony. Again.

This man was so completely and totally not nice to me. He reluctantly let me use the phone in the lobby and then pretended I didn't exist for the rest of the night. I really didn't care at the time because I was completely and totally FREAKING OUT, but now that I look back on it...JERK!

So I pick up this little white phone that sort of looks like the phone my parents had back 1989 and dial my number. And a man answers immediately. I'm a little confused, so I say, "BGF?" And the dude's all, "Wrong number honey." So I hang up and dial again. And this time the dude is like, "Wrong number AGAIN honey." And I really was dialing my own cell phone number. I know I was. But apparently those numbers were too similar to the hotel numbers. Goody.

So I walked back outside so I could stalk some more cars. I also thought about crying. A lot. Instead, I walked back to my building and sat in the back of BGF's mom's truck that was parked there because I still hadn't given back the hugest dolly in the known universe. So there I sat, in my "I'm a BA Baracus" t-shirt, with my retarded pony tail and black shorts, cuddling my iPod in the bed of a purple truck. Y'all, I am SO COOL.

I eventually decided that this course of action would only get me to an insane asylum and not my apartment. I got out and went in the laundry room on the second floor and braced myself. I knew what I needed to do and I was so freaking nervous.

I was going to have to ask for help from my neighbor.

I knew she was home because I could hear R&B grinding music blaring from the hallway. And really, what else was I going to do? What if BGF never showed? I had to suck it up and knock on the door.

She opened the door just a little bit, obviously taken aback by the ugly fat girl with a freaking B.A. BARACUS shirt on. I was a little flustered and tried to explain my problem. I used a lot of "ums" and "you knows" and "help me please for the love of gods!" She finally figured out what I was talking about and tried the door herself. And she said the first thing that had made since the entire night, "You need to call the cops. Your friend won't know what to do." See, my original intent was just to use her phone to call BGF and force him to get his partying butt over here and fix my problem. But she pretty much insisted on calling the cops. So insistent that she invited me in, looked up the number, dialed it and HANDED THE PHONE TO ME before I even had a chance to protest.

This was the first time I had ever talked to a dispatch person and PLEASE DEAR LORD LET IT BE THE LAST. I was so freaking flustered and embrassed that I wound up sounding like a complete moron. Oh well, an officer was on his way. To do what? I had no idea, but it had to be better than soiling my neighbor's immaculate apartment. She's one of those people who apologizes for "the mess" when really "the mess" is that they had only just vacuumed the day before and not 5 minutes before you came over.

This happened to be the most pleasant part of the night, however, because I got to check out her beautiful apartment and chat with an actual living female. (Have I mentioned that almost all of my friends are guys? What's up with that?)

I left her to wait downstairs for the cop because I obviously couldn't buzz him in from MY apartment and my neighbor was looking way too hot and made up to be getting ready for bed.

As I sat downstairs, I tried to rehearse what I was going to say to the cop if he was cute. "I normally wear clothes that match, Office Hotstuff, but I gave away all my clothes to a homeless shelter." "Hey Beautiful Cop Man, come back when I can shower and I'll show you a good time." "Mr. Officer Cutie Sir, I'm not really so stupid as to lock myself out of my apartment normally, it's an accident, I promise."

All of these thoughts were diminished when he showed up WITH HIS FREAKING SPOTLIGHT ON AND AIMING IT AT EVERY SINGLE BUILDING IN MY COMPLEX OH MY GOD ALL THE NEIGHBORS KNOW ME NOW AND I FEEL LIKE SUCH WHITE TRASH.

The semi-cute cop got out and I explained my situation. He helpfully replied, "I can't help you." Thanks buddy.

I made him go upstairs anyway and he pushed and pushed and pushed on the door and added with great gutso, "Yeah, I can't do anything besides break the door down."

BREAK MY FREAKING DOOR DOWN.

I tried to talk him out of this option and immediately began offering different ideas for entering this apartment. He gleefully shot each one down as visions of splintered doorframes danced in his head. Before he got too excited, his radio squawked and he was like, "Oh, that's my sergeant downstairs. Let's go see if he has any ideas."

Yep, two cops. For me. In one night. My downstiars neighbor who likes to barbecue at 10 pm was outside gossiping about me on his cell phone even though I was within earshot. I didn't hear him say anything about my shirt, but I know he did. JERK!

The level-headed sergant decided that there had to be better course of action than just breaking my door down. I agreed. Rookie cop man didn't agree. Shut up rookie cop man!

So they call back the dispatch and try to get an emergency contact number for my landlord. The level-headed sergant wished me luck and drove off leaving me overzealous rookie cop man salivating over the chance to break my door down. Yippee.

He and I sat around and talked while we waited to hear back from the dispatch lady. Of course, it was bad news: no emergency contact for my complex. Just at this moment, my hot neighbor was coming downstairs to go out. The cop stopped her and asked if she had an emergency number for the landlord. She seemed a little hesitant and I felt so bad for her because all she wanted to do was go have fun on a Friday night, not baby-sit her stupid neighbor. But she proved to be a good neighbor and dug out her cell phone and called the office in order to listen for the emergency page number. So we wait as she listens to the list of amenities. And office hours. On and on this message goes and BEEP!

Right before the number is listed....BEEP. It got cut off. Hot neighbor girl is so sweet, she called it again, but no such luck. No emergency contact number for us! As the cop walked back to his car to get the consent form, the neighbor leans over and says, "I have a drink. Should I go on and go to my car? Is he distracted?" And then I realize what her hesitence was earlier! She had a freaking alcoholic beverage in that orange glass! Not water! She didn't want the cop to see the open container. Holy crap!

Hot neighbor girl bounds off to her night of partying with her beautful and drinking self and I head back upstairs with rookie cop man. He pushed on the door REALLY hard and the gold security latch started to come off the door frame! The cop was like, "Sign that form now!" Ha!

So I fill out a little form stating that I allowed the local Sheriff's department to forcefully enter my place of occupance. May I never have to do this again, Lord.

So the cop begins the process of breaking my door down and it is SO LOUD and takes SO LONG. I couldn't hardly believe it. One of my neighbors from the 2nd floor actually yells up, "What are y'all doing up there, man!?" To which rookie cop man valiantly replies, "SHERIFF'S DEPARTMENT!"

At this point I started wondering if I could afford to break my lease and move again because oh my god, I'm the girl who needed the cops to break into her own apartment on a Friday night.

Dogs are barking. Children are crying. Neighbors are plotting my death. But by god, rookie cop man broke that golden security clasp right off my doorframe! Yee-haw! I was in!

I thanked my new friend in the sheriff's department and beat a hasty retreat before my neighbors started coming upstairs to view the trainwreck that is my life. All I could do was just lay on my floor and think.

"How can I top this next Friday night?"