I locked my keys in my car this week. Because of course I did.
I was on the phone with my best friend, as I am every Tuesday morning on my way to work, and was not paying attention as I gathered everything (I thought) out of my car to take inside. By the time lunch rolled around, and I had a meeting to attend, I realized my keys were not on my desk and were, in fact, sitting on my passenger seat.
Luckily I have a very nice editor who asked no questions when I came inside, grabbed his keys, and said I was borrowing his car (thank you, David).
My husband was able to bring my spare key up and get my keys while I was gone. It was not his first time doing that for me, it won’t be the last.
Anyone with an older car knows that key-fobs wear out over time and don’t work when you get too far from the car. So I developed a habit of just hitting the lock button on the door when I get out of the car instead so I know it’s locked.
It reminded me of the time I did that two years ago. I went to the gas station and accidentally locked my keys, wallet, and phone in my car. The issue was my phone, because at the time, I didn’t know my husband’s phone number.
Now, I remember a lot of phone numbers, but his was not one of them. Whoops.
But not a problem, because I called my mom. No answer.
I called my dad. No answer.
I wracked my brain and tried our Oxford office, thinking they would have Kyle’s phone number on file as an emergency contact. But it was 8:30 in the morning, no one was in yet to get that information for me.
I thought and thought, and finally decided to call my best friend, the one I talk to every Tuesday morning. She’s been my best friend for over a decade, and I know her cell phone number by heart.
And because she’s my best friend, she answered, and I had to ask her to call Kyle and tell him I was locked out of my car at the gas station on the corner.
She loves me, so she laughed at me, but did it anyway.
10 minutes later Kyle pulled into the gas station with my spare key to let me into my car.
And that’s the story of how my husband had to bring me my spare key because I got locked out of my car on his 26th birthday. Maybe one day I’ll learn, but I doubt it. I did manage to memorize Kyle’s phone number, though.