This was me this morning. Way too early to be dealing with complications.
I can feel a blister starting on my forefinger where I tried for 40 minutes to get my deadbolt to budge and let me out of my apartment. It’s an old house that locks from the inside with a key.
With a big bag of trash in my hands already making me lightheaded from the nasty odors of raw chicken pieces and rotting fruit, I realized this was going to be no simple rescue mission.
I had a little time to spare before I needed to be at work at 3:30 am. Still, I was feeling the pressure since my hair was wet and my face was bare / I keep all hair and make-up products at the station. I talked myself out of a full panic attack and finally called my producer. Though, I haven’t mentioned yet that I’m having phone charging problems and my phone was dead. I was left with no contact numbers and had to skype the station!! One thing after another. Megan, my producer, was minutes away from driving to my house. The plan was to cut out the screen and throw her my keys, then she could try and open my door the other way. Being a cheapo I put the brakes on that.
Next call was to Mom and Dad. Poor folks. I wonder when I’ll stop calling them at any and all hours with my emergencies. While dad started googling my landlords, mom chilled me out and talked me though it. When that even failed she told me to get a knife. BINGO!!
Almost in tears with low blood sugar adding to my panic, I broke out of my own apartment in the wee hours of the morning; I seriously called the station and over speaker phone told my very worried/bewildered colleagues that, “I’m free.”
My Memphis newscasts full of criminals might be teaching me too much about breaking and entering, or in my case, leaving.