Me and the key
So, on Friday I moved into the new apartment. So far, things have been going very well. My roommates are German doctoral students, both several years older than I am. I am the third or fourth in a succession of Americans that they've hosted, so they're pretty used to hearing the accent and giving advice about things to do (and avoid) in Berlin. I have a room to myself, which feels unusual after a few years of dorms, and the apartment building is located in an interesting neighborhood.
The only catch (both literally and figuratively) has been the key to the apartment. I have two keys, one to get into the building and one to get into the apartment itself. So far, I've gotten into the building with no problem, but then not been able to open the apartment door. On two previous occasions, one of my roommates was home and was able to come out, investigate the key, suggest a few tricks for me to try, and demonstrate how to open the door. And on both occasions, after said tutorial, I was able to open the door with my key.
Then, tonight, I came back to the apartment a little before 7. I'd had a really good day, actually; I'd met a few of the other teaching assistants in Berlin for a late brunch, and we'd spent some time just having our bread and coffee and comparing initial experiences. So, I walked the two flights up to the apartment in a good mood, and then attempted to open the door. Nothing going. The key simply would not budge in the lock. I tried for about ten minutes, and then decided to admit defeat, ring the doorbell, and ask one of my roommates if we could go over the use of the key one more time. I rang the doorbell, and no one answered.
So, I took a deep breath. I tried again. I tried for about twenty minutes. I pulled the door towards me and turned the key to the right. I pushed the door away and turned the key right. I tried turning the key to the left, just for kicks. I went outside and took some more deep breaths. I went back in and tried every combination of pushing, pulling and turning that I could think of.
At this point, I was pretty much ready to start crying. I had been out all day. I was tired, I was thirsty, I wanted to have a drink of water and take a shower. I cursed the door and the key under my breath. If there had been an axe nearby, I would probably have taken it to the door. I hated that door like no woman has ere hated door.
A few of the other people who live in the building had passed by me and had probably noticed that I was having some problems, but Germans seem to be rather inclined to mind their own business, so no one had said anything. A pair of women had, however, gone up to the floor above me, and when they came down about twenty minutes later and saw me still there, they took a turn at the key, with equally bad luck. After they left, I was just on the point of sitting on the step and waiting for one of my roommates, when one of them came up the stairs, let me in, and gave me another copy of the key that seems to work better.
And now I've taken a shower and feel much better, although my hands are still a little red from their exertion. I even think it's a little funny that it's a key that's given me such problems in the new country - I feel like there's a good metaphor there. Anyway, tomorrow I'm back at school for week number two. One of the classes I'm going to tomorrow is going to see a Shakespeare play at the end of the week, so I'm supposed to think up some words and phrases relating to the theater to go over with them.
The only catch (both literally and figuratively) has been the key to the apartment. I have two keys, one to get into the building and one to get into the apartment itself. So far, I've gotten into the building with no problem, but then not been able to open the apartment door. On two previous occasions, one of my roommates was home and was able to come out, investigate the key, suggest a few tricks for me to try, and demonstrate how to open the door. And on both occasions, after said tutorial, I was able to open the door with my key.
Then, tonight, I came back to the apartment a little before 7. I'd had a really good day, actually; I'd met a few of the other teaching assistants in Berlin for a late brunch, and we'd spent some time just having our bread and coffee and comparing initial experiences. So, I walked the two flights up to the apartment in a good mood, and then attempted to open the door. Nothing going. The key simply would not budge in the lock. I tried for about ten minutes, and then decided to admit defeat, ring the doorbell, and ask one of my roommates if we could go over the use of the key one more time. I rang the doorbell, and no one answered.
So, I took a deep breath. I tried again. I tried for about twenty minutes. I pulled the door towards me and turned the key to the right. I pushed the door away and turned the key right. I tried turning the key to the left, just for kicks. I went outside and took some more deep breaths. I went back in and tried every combination of pushing, pulling and turning that I could think of.
At this point, I was pretty much ready to start crying. I had been out all day. I was tired, I was thirsty, I wanted to have a drink of water and take a shower. I cursed the door and the key under my breath. If there had been an axe nearby, I would probably have taken it to the door. I hated that door like no woman has ere hated door.
A few of the other people who live in the building had passed by me and had probably noticed that I was having some problems, but Germans seem to be rather inclined to mind their own business, so no one had said anything. A pair of women had, however, gone up to the floor above me, and when they came down about twenty minutes later and saw me still there, they took a turn at the key, with equally bad luck. After they left, I was just on the point of sitting on the step and waiting for one of my roommates, when one of them came up the stairs, let me in, and gave me another copy of the key that seems to work better.
And now I've taken a shower and feel much better, although my hands are still a little red from their exertion. I even think it's a little funny that it's a key that's given me such problems in the new country - I feel like there's a good metaphor there. Anyway, tomorrow I'm back at school for week number two. One of the classes I'm going to tomorrow is going to see a Shakespeare play at the end of the week, so I'm supposed to think up some words and phrases relating to the theater to go over with them.
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