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Not a good day for keys
When I got home from the conference yesterday I carefully set the keys on the corner of the coffee table, right next to my pile of stuff. This morning there weren’t any early morning talks on my personal program, so I slept in, and wasn’t ready to head out the door till after my host took her children to school. Got everything together and reached for the keys, but they weren’t on that corner. No worries, the table got moved from next to my stuff to in front of the computer desk, must the be other corner. Nope. Checked all four corners. Nope. Rummaged around the stuff on the table, still no keys.
Thinking that I’d misremembered what I did with them I checked all the pockets of my backpack and the other bag I’ve been bringing to the conference. No keys there either (unless you count my keys from Milan, which won’t help here). Carefully removed everything from the coffee table, stacking each item neatly. No keys. Thinking that perhaps they fell off into my pile of stuff I carefully emptied my suitcase, and re-packed it. No keys there, either.
Thinking that perhaps one of the kids might have moved them I checked a variety of other places—not on the desk, not in anyplace obvious in the kids room (which had just been tidied up last night), not in the kitchen, not hanging on the hook of spare keys. I even checked the box of sewing supplies, since some things had been out on the other table yesterday, but got put away. Nothing. There is another house key hanging with the spares, but this ring contains the only copy of the basement key (where the bike I’ve been using is kept) and the key to the bike lock.
So I waited. And looked some more. And waited. Eventually my host came home, and she looked in all of the places I looked. Eventually, she found the keys in a box by the door. So, at long last, I hopped onto the bike and went on my way. The morning rain had long since stopped, and it was a lovely ride through the green belt to the river and along the river to the conference venue. When I arrived I went to lock up the bike. Put the key into the lock and it didn’t turn, thinking it was in upside down, I tried it the other way, and this time it broke in half, with the key still inside the lock!
Since I couldn’t lock up the bike I hopped back on it, thinking to ride past the conference venue in search of a new lock. While I’d walked from the U-bahn, this was the first time I’d taken the bike that direction. Not wanting to take the stairs, I detoured over to the handicapped ramp and went down that, and turned left towards the continued ramp, only to discover, at the very last second, that the part of the ramp towards which I was rolling is actually shallow stairs. Not wishing to descend stairs while on a bike, I pulled on the brakes and attempted to dismount.
In the process of trying to stop I managed to overbalance, and fall forward, over the bike. I did get my hands up on time to break my fall (I am grateful that arms come with elbows and shoulders, which one can bend as one lands to absorb much of the impact), but didn’t come to a complete stop until I’d landed on one knee, with the other shin landing upon some portion of the bike, and my upper body continued so forward enough to actually land on my face. Fortunately, by that point most of the velocity had been removed, so while there was a tiny hint of swelling in the upper lip, which was between the pavement and my teeth, I didn’t actually do any damage there. I think the shin is bruised, though, as one would expect from landing on a random bike part with it.
I got myself picked up, determined that any damage was superficial, and continued on my quest. Found an English-speaking local at the U-bhan, who told me that if I took the train two stops I’d find a shopping center, and that yes, I can take the bike on the train. Once at the shopping center it took three tries to find someone who could tell me that I’d find a store selling bike locks upstairs on the right. When the employee at the entrance saw me with the bike she said something in German, and when I replied in English letting her know that I’d broken my key and needed a new lock, she told me where to find them, and let me bring in the bike, too.
Mission accomplished I finally returned to the conference venue stopping to purchase a croissant at the bakery at the train station, where they sell for €0.95, rather than the €2.50 they charge in the conference building. Now that I type this, I suddenly realize just why I had a problem with the bike lock. I’m pretty certain that the key I broke is not for the lock at all, but for the padlock on the basement storage unit. Oops. I wonder if that means the original lock will still work, if we can get the broken key out (heck, it may well be out by now—the vibrations of riding the bike could well have shaken it free without my noticing. I’ll have to look).
Thinking that I’d misremembered what I did with them I checked all the pockets of my backpack and the other bag I’ve been bringing to the conference. No keys there either (unless you count my keys from Milan, which won’t help here). Carefully removed everything from the coffee table, stacking each item neatly. No keys. Thinking that perhaps they fell off into my pile of stuff I carefully emptied my suitcase, and re-packed it. No keys there, either.
Thinking that perhaps one of the kids might have moved them I checked a variety of other places—not on the desk, not in anyplace obvious in the kids room (which had just been tidied up last night), not in the kitchen, not hanging on the hook of spare keys. I even checked the box of sewing supplies, since some things had been out on the other table yesterday, but got put away. Nothing. There is another house key hanging with the spares, but this ring contains the only copy of the basement key (where the bike I’ve been using is kept) and the key to the bike lock.
So I waited. And looked some more. And waited. Eventually my host came home, and she looked in all of the places I looked. Eventually, she found the keys in a box by the door. So, at long last, I hopped onto the bike and went on my way. The morning rain had long since stopped, and it was a lovely ride through the green belt to the river and along the river to the conference venue. When I arrived I went to lock up the bike. Put the key into the lock and it didn’t turn, thinking it was in upside down, I tried it the other way, and this time it broke in half, with the key still inside the lock!
Since I couldn’t lock up the bike I hopped back on it, thinking to ride past the conference venue in search of a new lock. While I’d walked from the U-bahn, this was the first time I’d taken the bike that direction. Not wanting to take the stairs, I detoured over to the handicapped ramp and went down that, and turned left towards the continued ramp, only to discover, at the very last second, that the part of the ramp towards which I was rolling is actually shallow stairs. Not wishing to descend stairs while on a bike, I pulled on the brakes and attempted to dismount.
In the process of trying to stop I managed to overbalance, and fall forward, over the bike. I did get my hands up on time to break my fall (I am grateful that arms come with elbows and shoulders, which one can bend as one lands to absorb much of the impact), but didn’t come to a complete stop until I’d landed on one knee, with the other shin landing upon some portion of the bike, and my upper body continued so forward enough to actually land on my face. Fortunately, by that point most of the velocity had been removed, so while there was a tiny hint of swelling in the upper lip, which was between the pavement and my teeth, I didn’t actually do any damage there. I think the shin is bruised, though, as one would expect from landing on a random bike part with it.
I got myself picked up, determined that any damage was superficial, and continued on my quest. Found an English-speaking local at the U-bhan, who told me that if I took the train two stops I’d find a shopping center, and that yes, I can take the bike on the train. Once at the shopping center it took three tries to find someone who could tell me that I’d find a store selling bike locks upstairs on the right. When the employee at the entrance saw me with the bike she said something in German, and when I replied in English letting her know that I’d broken my key and needed a new lock, she told me where to find them, and let me bring in the bike, too.
Mission accomplished I finally returned to the conference venue stopping to purchase a croissant at the bakery at the train station, where they sell for €0.95, rather than the €2.50 they charge in the conference building. Now that I type this, I suddenly realize just why I had a problem with the bike lock. I’m pretty certain that the key I broke is not for the lock at all, but for the padlock on the basement storage unit. Oops. I wonder if that means the original lock will still work, if we can get the broken key out (heck, it may well be out by now—the vibrations of riding the bike could well have shaken it free without my noticing. I’ll have to look).