I’ve never posted something on FMyLife, as I haven’t had something that was hilariously tragic enough to write about. Until now. (Okay, well this doesn’t even really merit an FML moment, which is why I’m posting it here rather than on the actual site.) But here goes:
A few weeks ago I lost the keys to my apartment, which meant my house mom had to help me get copies made. She was really worried that someone was going to find the keys and break in, as was the overly nosey apartment employee who now asks me every time I come home if I’ve lost my keys again. I assured them both that it would never happen again. And then a few days ago, I lost my debit card. But not to worry, I still had my credit card. Until Friday night happened.
I was at a boliche (night club) dancing and having a great time when I realized my purse was gone. I was wearing it, so someone must have cut the strap and grabbed it. I frantically searched the club, but with very little light and people everywhere I knew there was no hope. However, for some reason I thought that staying until the club closed might help me somehow. Unfortunately, once 7:00 am came around and the club cleared out, I still was unable to locate my lost bag. After haggling with the coat check attendant to give me my jacket without my ticket, I hopped in a cab with a friend (whose phone was also stolen). On the ride home, I started running through my situation in my head. I had no keys to enter my apartment, no money, and no phone. I was virtually homeless.
Of course, when I arrived at my building, the apartment employee was there at the front door waiting to ask me her usual mocking question. I couldn’t bear answering her, so I scurried by quickly to avoid all conversation. Of course, the moment I knocked on the door to my apartment was when my house mom was in the shower (which I found out later). So, I trudged away assuming she was already at work for the day. It was as I’d expected: I was locked out.
There was only one thing left to do: get help from my school. My friend lent me a few coins for the bus, and I set off, alone and exhausted to the IES center. I arrived way before it opened, so I plopped down outside in my skirt, heels and last night’s makeup. When the first employees and students started arriving, their eyes scanned me with concerned curiosity; I clearly did not look like I had come for class.
The IES staff helped me get in touch with my house mom, though it was a bit awkward when I had to admit that I had been out dancing at “Club 69” when I lost my bag. I spent my Friday getting a new set of keys, canceling my credit card, and finally collapsing into bed. Fortunately, I had some U.S. dollars hidden away in a drawer so I can survive until the new cards come in the mail. However, this incident did not help relations with the apartment employee who, every time I enter and exit the building, scolds me to be more careful.
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