So, I was going to go snorkeling with some peeps, and the place is by our building, so I decided to stop by our room and pee, get some face lotion, etc.
Because sometimes it’s nice to pee in your own toilet.
The elevator was broken, so I climbed six flights of stairs, bladder bursting. I went to open the door, and it wouldn’t. The key unlocked it, but it sounded like it was catching on something.
I slunk back down to snorkel town and explained that it was locked; maybe housekeeping was in there and locked the door? Well, that went over well with the wife, and all four of us marched back up six flights of stairs, and everyone tried to open it.
Chris went to find help with Matt, and Amy and I stayed at the room in case someone actually was in there.
I wasn’t allowed to stay by myself because I wouldn’t have given them enough of the business. Amy would use her teacher voice, while I stayed back, shrinking quietly.
Two visits with a housekeeper, two calls to maintenance, and a desperate trip to pee down and up six flights of stairs later, no less than three maintenance dudes are clustered around our door, trying to decide if they should bust it down or drill into the wood next to it.
An hour later, eventual success. One of them spider-monkeyed onto the roof and was able to climb through this tiny window and flip the latch from the inside.
We were so happy to finally get in our room and not be forced to switch rooms (because by some random karma, we have a ridiculously nice room)! I tried to celebrate with a local beer, and it had frozen. Beer slushy was impossible to drink, and I dumped it. Sad face all day.
Then we realized that the maintenance dudes somehow broke our patio door, but luckily, secondary maintenance man Matt was able to fix it.
Happy Sunday, yinz guys.