I once locked not one, not two, but *three *sets of keys in my car. **Rhiannon8404 **and I were going to play tennis at the local high school one evening. I left my car keys in the car on purpose to that they wouldn’t bother me while I was playing; she did the same with her purse. This was fine, because I had my AAA “key card” in my wallet. When we got back to the car, I realized that I had put my wallet under the seat as soon as I left home (so it wouldn’t bother me while I was playing). Rhiannon had a spare key to my car as well, but of course it was in her purse.
Luckily, the school was having a dance the following night, and there were people there decorating the gym, and one of them had a coat hanger.
She married me anyway.
I locked my keys to my trumpet case inside the case a few years ago. I haven’t played my trumpet since. 
(not necessarily because the case is locked 
)
One day last week, I was locked IN- to my apartment. The screws holding the plate of the catch thing that goes from the door into the door frame came out, and the catch thing was stuck between the door and the frame and the unlocker on the door didn’t have any effect on it.
Now, I could sit in my apartment for hours on end, and be happy about it, but being ‘trappped’ in there almost made me panic. After two hours of messing with it, I had a neighbor kick it in. Now there is duct tape holding the door frame together until maintenance comes to fix it.
I sometimes think I am the only one that gets into this kind of situation.
I lock myself out of the house with some regularity. I lost my house keys a while ago and am too cheap to have all the locks replaced. I have one window I leave unlocked that is fairly easy to get into, so I just scootch my rather large butt through that if the door accidentally locks behind me. The worst “break into my own house” scene was the day I was wearing a dress and had to scoot in. Let’s just say I was glad I was wearing clean underwear and I’m glad the neighbors weren’t out to see the free show.
I have a friend whose dog can unlock the back door to let her in when she’s forgotten her keys.
I have a mild but irrational fear of dropping my keys down holes, like sewer grates and the like. I also have a mild but irrational fear of elevators.
A few years back I had just moved into a new place, and the only way I knew of out of the parking garage was the elevator. It was a bit unusual in that it had a regular hinged door as the outer door. Because of this, there was a significant gap between the garage floor and the elevator.
Not being very aware of this, my fears were justified as I managed to drop my keys straight into the elevator shaft. Luckily for me, it was only about four feet down and flat concrete. (I was also fortunate that it was around midnight, so nobody needed the elevator).
Having just moved in I didn’t know how to contact the building maintenance and didn’t really know anyone in the building. I did however, have my car keys on a separate ring. So I headed back to my car and discovered I had one box I hadn’t taken inside yet, the box of junk that you never want to get rid of but never seems to find a use.
An hour later, after much frustration, I managed to use an old speaker magnet, a coat hangar, duct tape, and some string to finally fish the keys out so I could happily sleep in my bed instead of my car.
I had intended to post a MPSIMS thread about the experience, titling it “Ever have your irrational fears realized?” Instead I put it off for a day; I had it in the text editor but for some reason figured I’d wait until the next morning to post it. That morning was September, the 11th, and I did not feel the need to post the thread.
Back in my drinking days (seems that most of my stories start like that) I was living in a little one bedroom apartment, this was back when I had my gas station, and for some reason was frequently a little groggy after getting up at 4:00AM. Probably once a week I’d step out, close the door, and then feel my pockets for keys which were right on the table where I left them (or by the fridge, or on the floor, depending on how the previous night went).
Lucky for me it was a ground floor apartment with a bathroom window that didn’t lock. I’d pop the screen, jump and wedge an elbow in the opening, haul my hungover butt up scraping myself on the bricks, get about halfway through the window and realize the only way down was face first, franticly grab the rod for the shower curtain, and usually managed to get in with no further injury. I’d have to change my shirt at that point, and then try to find my keys (the oven? why did I put them in the oven?)
By that point I was late and had to open the station before settling the previous nights receipts. Usually managed to get the numbers pretty close…