It was only a matter of time before one of our worst fears in Paris finally came to fruition. We locked ourselves out of our apartment.
Just as I was closing the door behind me so we could take Tyler for his morning walk this past Saturday, I asked Rio if he had the key. It was said out of habit, as honestly, he always has his key, so I don’t usually bring mine. But nope, not this time. As the door clicked behind me (I can still hear the click now), he looked at me as if I were joking. When we both realized neither of us had our keys and this wasn’t a practical joke we were playing on each other, the look of surprise combined with “oh shit” terror hit both of us at the same time.
After we both patted down our pockets to make sure we really didn’t have our keys, I frantically ran to the guardian’s apartment to see if she might be home and have an extra key. No luck. I then ran from neighbor to neighbor’s apartment in hopes that someone would have “un radio” (AKA an x-ray). Umm – un radio, you ask? Oui, it is commonly known in Paris that to break into your apartment (apparently, an unfortunate common experience), you can try to use an X-ray to jiggle the door lock open. And oui, we all have copies of our X-rays since doctors here check us for tuberculosis. Well – let me tell you, the alleged X-ray trick does not work. Pas du tout. Not only did it not work for us, but it hasn’t worked for our friends Robin & Dave who’ve also gotten themselves locked out.
So how did I manage to get an X-ray? Third time’s the charm because that’s how many neighbors I had to ring before someone was home. The poor guy (whom I have never even seen in my life), looked so confused as I tried to sign language what an X-ray was since I couldn’t remember it’s called “un radio”. Luckily, his English-speaking girlfriend came to the door after a few minutes (in her bath towel, mind you), and was able to figure out what I needed. Keep in mind this is at 10:30 on a Saturday morning – super early for late-sleeping Parisians.
So back I ran upstairs with le radio in hand, hoping Rio had some hidden break-in talents I didn’t know about. Nope, nope he does not. At this point, I was starting to get worried we’d really need to call a locksmith and part with the rumored 500 euros it costs to break into your own home. Throughout all this, poor Tyler is also laying on our neighbor’s doormat probably needing to pee really badly and wondering what the hell was going on with his crazy parents. As a last resort, knowing that our dogwalker’s usually in the countryside on the weekends and that they have our extra set of keys, I figured I’d still give it a shot and text them to see if they might be stopping in Paris for some reason anyway. Turns out, they were already at their country farm BUT their cleaning lady was at their home outside Paris and could give us our key if we arrived before 2pm. Praise Jesus, Hallelujah!! After asking about seven taxis if they’d take Rio, me and Tyler to the dogwalker’s house, and all of them saying no, we decided to part ways and I’d make the trip on my own.
(Super) Long story short, after an hour, all three of us were back inside our home and the adrenaline rush from the morning adventure lasted throughout the remainder of the day. I’m so thankful it all worked out well, that we have the nicest neighbors and that we have a dogwalker who has a key!
PS – Did I mention the scene where the neighbor on our floor ended up being home, so Rio climbed over his balcony to hop onto ours and was about to break our window to get inside until I ran in there screaming like a banshee that we would be able to pick up our key from the dogwalker? Ahh – true story.
So thankful for our dogwalker and his key (or I guess, technically our key)!!
45 euros lighter after a taxi ride from Paris to Sèvres and back.