Let me first set the stage.
I live in in Chicago. It’s January. By the thermometer on my back deck, it’s 8 degrees F. (about -20, for those of you in Yrup.) I’ve got a Labrador Retriever. He thinks January weather is fun. I get home from work, feed and walk the dog, change into comfortable, light clothes, have a drink, and figure I’ve settled in for the night. It’s now 9:30 p.m.
The Lab has different ideas. He wants me to throw a football for him in my yard. He does the Canine Mind Trick, makes me feel guilty for leaving him alone during the day. (Yeah, I’ve got a great dog walker, but the dog has got a point.)
I cave. I figure I’ll go out in the yard, throw the ball a couple times, make the Lab happy, and call it a night. So I’m in sweatpants and a T-shirt. Hell, I’m a Chicagoan. Five minutes in the cold ain’t gonna bother me, right?
More setting the stage: In the last few weeks, I’ve upgraded the security in my house by installing an additional deadbolt on my back door, and window locks on any accessible first floor windows. (You now know where this is going, right?)
I go outside and firmly close the back door (got to keep those gas bills reasonable, you know.)
The deadbolt somehow engages.
Hell. It’s sitcom time.
I try to open a window, hoping that my security sweep somehow missed one.
Nope. I can’t even get through the storms on any of the first floor windows.
I’m now fairly cold. Working on metal-framed storms for even 10 minutes in this weather ain’t pleasant.
Still, no real problem. My neighbors and I have exchanged keys for emergencies. Their lights are on. Embarassing, but all I have to do is ring their doorbell, and difficulty disappears.
Wrong. Either they aren’t at home, their bell is out of order, or they’re busy upstairs having much more fun than I am at this point. No answer.
The only other person who has a key to my house is out of town. Fuck. I’m now very cold, and not happy. (The Lab, on the other hand, thinks this is a Fun Game.)
Okay. I like to think I’m a capable guy. I decide to try second floor windows. Most of these are 20 feet off the ground, but two can be reached from a first floor roof extension that covers part of my deck. It’s about 10 feet above said deck. I’m fairly tall, but 10 feet is a bit much to jump and do a pull-up, especially as I’d be hanging from a gutter. Balancing on the snow-covered deck rail to reach the roof is considered, but is vetoed as a Bad Idea. The shoes I have on weren’t chosen for their traction.
I take stock of what’s in my yard. I find a bale of straw. (Don’t ask.) That, plus a planter filled with frozen solid dirt, when stacked together on my deck, allows me (somewhat precariously) to reach the roof gutter. I hang, do a pull-up as the gutter partly detaches under my weight, and make it onto the first floor roof overhang. (Those of you in Northern climes can imagine how my hands feel at this point, as metal gutters are real good at conducting heat. Also, carrying a water-soaked and frozen bale of straw ain’t fun with ungloved hands.)
The Lab thinks I’m hiding, and barks with joy at the game.
I try the second-floor windows. Initial success! I’m able to open one of the storms! No such luck with the interior double-hung, though.
Shit. I return to the deck, resigned to breaking a first-floor window. Sucks, but better than hypothermia. Gutter further pulls away from roof in the process.
I find a brick, and bash one of the storms.
I discover that I’ve got good storm windows. They’re not plexiglass, but obviously they’re not regular window glass either, as they bend, but won’t break, despite several attempts with the brick.
I do learn that ice-encrusted bricks are excellent conductors of heat away from hands.
The Lab is still having a wonderful time, which is becoming less and less amusing.
O-kay. Time to consider remaining options. No keys. No money. No ID. No cell phone. Car locked. Nearest all-night White Hen is owned and staffed by Pakistani family with limited grasp of English.
I consider calling a friend collect from a pay phone for a place to spend the night, but realize that I’ve got a 9:30 court appearance tomorrow morning, and my briefcase is inside the house. No solution there.
Time to hazard the gutter again. I toss the brick onto the roof, climb onto the strawbale/planter stack and manage another pull-up without falling on my ass, as the gutter completely detaches.
Brick works on interior window with previously-opened storm, and I’m in. Success! I brush off the glass shards, close the strom, let the dog in, hide a spare key in the back yard for future emergencies, and finish my drink.
I call friend in Hawaii, who grew up with me with in a Chicago suburb. He enjoys story muchly, and tells me what temperature is in Honolulu. I am less amused, but am warm.
So to bed.
