The Boy Scout and the Basket Case

I use a little padlock on a locker at work – it is my favourite lock – not because of its reliability and sturdiness, for if it was truly tested I fear it would be neither. This lock has endeared itself to me not because of anything it did (it was just doing what it was designed to do – lock a locker) but because every time I look at the lock I remember the day I needed a hero to come to my rescue.

Besides the aforementioned lock, there are three main players in the melodrama I am about to regale you with – the two title ones – you can guess which of the two of them I am. If you need a hint – I’m no boy scout; that honour goes to my main man C. The third player in this tale, who incidentally has a tail, is my dog Beau.

Now Beau had a problem all his life – which I never understood the origin of – his problem is a fear of abandonment. Every time I leave he’d make a big production out of it. Whining and yapping at the door – as if I was never going to return – which would make me feel very guilty.

I tried to allay his fears; I would sit him down and explained to him where I was going, how long I’d be gone – but it never seemed to help. I also tried to reason with him; explaining that I have always returned in the past and there is no reason to assume that will change – but alas, there is no reasoning or consoling a dog – they just don’t get it.

So I modified my behaviour to help mollify my dog when I’d leave; I’d give him a treat, and I’d try to plan my outings in such a way that I wasn’t coming and going from my apartment over and over again in a day.

This behaviour on my part lead to the events that transpired on the day that I competed in the Toastmaster’s Area International Speech Contest back in 2006.

I had spin class in the morning and the contest in the afternoon – I knew I’d only have about half an hour to go home, shower, change and then leave for the Contest. I decided rather than bother Beau I would take everything I needed for spin class, the contest, and afterwards – plus all my shower supplies and would shower and change in the locker room adjacent to the Jacuzzi in my building.

I got back from spin class and I was right on schedule – C (the afore mentioned Boy Scout) was coming to pick me up and I had about half an hour to get ready. I went into the locker room; opened up a locker, put my keys on the top shelf and stowed my sweaty spin stuff down below. I showered and put the shower stuff in the locker and started putting on my outfit for the contest. I had a bag with a change of clothes for after the contest and some food. I was prepared.

I stood before the locker fully dressed (minus the blouse I hadn’t put on yet) and did a quick double check: – shoes for afterwards, bag containing change of clothes food, water bottle, shirt, padlock

Ok, good to go.

Shut the locker door and lock the lock and…

Oh crap – anyone remember where I set my keys??

The feeling hit me like a kick to the stomach. “No, no no no no no no!” I screamed at the locked lock.

I started pulling on the lock – desperate to open it – I had set my keys, including the key to the lock currently securing my possessions in the locker –

In.the.locker!

Enter; The Basket Case.

There I was, standing in the locker room – shoes, socks, pants, and bra on – and the panic set it. I have to get my keys!! I have to get help!

So I turn and race out the locker room door into the Jacuzzi area – realize that my top is still hanging on the door of another locker – return for it, race out again, buttoning a few buttons as I go and realize I can’t leave the Jacuzzi room because the door will lock behind me and then I will really be in trouble – I need something to prop doors open with.. So back I go again into the locker room and grab my spare shoes, bag and empty water bottle – because you never know when you’ll need an empty water bottle.

The Jacuzzi room door I was able to prop open with it’s own dead bolt; then I raced into the lobby – in total panic mode and searched in vain for help – the office was closed – no maintenance on duty – I asked a guy as he entered the building if he had lock cutters – he looked at me like I was crazy. I tried to explain that I had locked my keys in a locker in the Jacuzzi room and he said – more or less – “Good luck with that” and left. – I needed to find C.

C and I had agreed to meet in the Park adjacent to my apartment building. I was going to have to leave the building. Now the only problem with that was the same problem I faced with in the Jacuzzi room – how do I prevent myself from being locked out of the building? I grabbed my bag and propped open the front door of the building and started hoping to whatever deity I believed in at the time that no one would come along and un-prop the door while I was finding C.

So I left the building. Bag (along with wallet) in doorway and shoes and an empty water bottle lying on the floor in the lobby… Luckily for me I had my watch on and I could tell how far behind schedule I was falling.

Now the water works begin – I start to cry. I race out towards the street and see his car parked next to the curb, but no C. I look left towards the park at the first set of benches where I anticipate him sitting, but no C.

I had to venture further from the front door…I turn left and start slowly running towards the park in dress shoes and dress clothes. I enter the park and start looking around wildly. Repeating his name under my breath – hoping that the universe will hear me and put me in touch with him; like some telepathic cell phone call.

Almost at the far end of the park, across an open field, sitting calmly on a bench looking up at what I can only imagine he imagined was my balcony was the object of my frantic search – C.

I charge across the field towards him full-tilt in my dress shoes (thankfully not high heels), heart pounding tears streaming down my face and mentally I’m yelling at him to look over and see the basket case hurtling towards him.

When I arrived in front of him and he recognized the whirling dervish as the woman he’d just started hanging out with, I apologized for being in a total state of panic; looking and acting my worst, told him the problem and then quickly turned around and started running back to the front door.

I’m not sure how much of my verbal frenzy he actually understood, but dutifully he began running after me but his speed was hindered by the leather slip on sandals he was wearing – even less conducive to running in than dress shoes – apparently…

I was really afraid someone would take the bag away and lock me out of the building entirely – so I sprinted up to the front door of the building and was relieved to see the door was still propped open.

We entered the lobby and by then I was in total melt-down mode – 100% Pure Basket Case. We saw an emergency maintenance phone number so C said he’d go get his cell phone from the car can call it. He hesitated – reluctant to leave me since I was so distraught. I told him – go – I’ll be fine… So he went out to his car.

In his absence I attempt to regain some composure. I pick up my shoes and empty water bottle and put my bag on my shoulder. Try to stop the shaking – me – the human tuning fork.

C came back a few minutes later with a toolbox and wearing his running shoes – always best to be prepared.

He thought he might be able to break the lock open, so, rather than call the maintenance number I rapidly led the way back into the Jacuzzi room C close at my heels so he could try his luck with the lock.

I burst into the Woman’s locker room and he paused at the door. I turned to him to see what the problem was and he asked me if it was empty – It was – the thought that there might be someone in there had never entered my mind.

I pointed out the offending locker. He set down his tool box and carefully examined the lock. He opened the tool box and got out a small pry-bar and a hammer. With one hit – he opened the lock!

He stood up and took the lock off the locker and opened the locker door. – As he stepped back I threw my arms around him and hugged him. The tears came again, but this time they were tears of joy.

In my dizzy state of total relief I almost said – “I LOVE YOU!!” – but caught myself in time and said – “You’re my hero”.

I think I repeated those words to him several times that day. He was cool, calm and collected when I was anything but. Handy spending time with a guy that carries a tool box around in his trunk – all I have in my trunk is an assortment of bungee cords – not sure how many dire situations they’d prove useful in.

C continues to be my hero and my boy scout – but most of all, he is My Man and I am very fortunate that he is.