I locked myself out of my room last night. The charge for after hours help would have been $75, so I decided to take matters in to my own hands. Paper clips, Jesus' nail file complete with fungus, and bobby pins penetrated the key hole; a butter knife, fake credit card and hammer violated the crevace between the door and wall. The possibility of a night of sound sleep and a shower were being compromised.
We knocked on our neighbors' doors and asked for their keys. The Crossing Place myth that people who share the same room location with you, for example 'back right corner', room 'B', share the same cut of key is FALSE. Our neighbors already don't like us, but I was desperate.
I called everybody I knew who seemed like they might have a hint of lock-picking experience. You never know; people can turn their lives around and attend University after they've had a devious childhood. Judge Mathis did it.
It turned out, one of my friends had a friend who was in UT's 'lock-picking Club.' Wow. But, he only knew masterlocks. What a shame. I ended up sleeping on our narrow couch with the community blanket and throw pillows.
No comments:
Post a Comment