The Keys Were Right There

Wednesday. I locked my keys in the car.

I want to be clear that I saw them the moment I shut the door, that little silver gleam through the window, keys dangling from the ignition like they were mocking me. I stood there for what I can only estimate was four full minutes before I did anything at all, which was to press my hand flat against the glass and look at them more closely, as if proximity would help.

confirming what I already knew

It did not help. The keys remained inside the car. I remained outside the car. We had reached an impasse.

The thing about locking your keys in your car is that there is no graceful way to handle the next part. You can call a locksmith (which I did, eventually), but first there is a mandatory window of just standing on the sidewalk looking at your own car like you have never seen one before. I did this for longer than I will admit in writing. At some point I crossed my arms and looked up at the sky, which is the universal posture for 'I have no further ideas.'

the part where I just stood there

The locksmith took about forty minutes to arrive and approximately ninety seconds to open the door. October is going well. The pottery workshop is in three weeks, Nadia loosely agreed to visit sometime this month, and I have now established that I am the kind of person who will stand outside a locked car just staring at it for an extended period. Good data. Glad I have the sketchbook to go home to.