I had a closer encounter with a crisis on Tuesday night. After being on campus for 9 hours of meetings, readings, and class, I got out of Architecture lecture early. I was checking in with the prof about my research paper topic while digging through my bag for my keys. No big deal I thought when I initially couldn't find them, my school bag is huge. Things tend to get lost in there. Ok. I end my conversation with my professor, still nothing. Hmmmm. There are a lot of books in my bag, I reason, keys are under books. I take everything out of my bag. My heart is pounding, and nothing. Phone. Enough pens to restock a Staples. Bobby pins galore. Tupperware from my lunch. Wallet, check. Notebooks. Three textbooks. The Style Section of the Sunday NYTimes, BUT NO KEYS!
That would mean, I can't get home. I can't get in my house if I do get home. I can't check my mail ever again. A myriad of obstacles and difficulties and locked doors that I cannot get into would be my future.
What to do. I called a friend who I knew had night class too and left a half panicked, half incomprehensible message, "Hi, it's me. Problem. Keys. Can't find. Can I get home with you? Can I just sit in your car and cry for a moment? Ok thanks. Call me. Bye."
Next I call my landlady (who is far too young and hip to be called the landlady, but I can't think of an alternative title in the midst of recalling this gripping story). I made sure if I could get home that I could get into my apartment and would not have to spend the night in the hallway on the moldy carpet which would surely be soaked by my stale tears if I was nestled up in a heap in front of the door to my house, but not IN my house. Yes, she had a spare key. Phew! Crisis not the worst of the worst if keys were truly gone.
I take a breath and decide to walk back to my scooter. Like my mom always says when I lose something, "Retrace your steps." So I went back to where I had started the day 9 long hours earlier parking my scooter in the lot with all the bad asses that ride motorcycles to school. My helmet was there perched on my little moto. I picked it up and I heard the jingle of keys. KEYS! My KEYS!
Next to the keys was a business card and a note handwritten on the back,"You left your keys in the ignition. I put them under your helmet. Call me if you have any questions. Eddie."
Since, I have gotten home and back to school a few times, I have locked and unlocked my door, I have slept in my bed and not in the hallway, I have checked my mail, and my life is back to normal. Importantly, I have gotten in touch with Eddie. He calls me scooter girl and told me he was nervous about putting my keys under my helmet because he didn't want anyone to think he was stealing my pink helmet. Ha. People are good. There are good people out there.