The other night Stevie and I got locked inside of our apartment. The 40 year old rusty double dead bolt Peruvian lock stopped responding to our key. We were stuck on the inside.
I’m not going to lie. I panicked. It was quite an experience in vulnerability.
Fortunately for us, we have 2 friends visiting right now from the US. Although they are staying in a hotel a couple blocks away, they came to our aid.
Double fortunately for us, one of them happens to be an active Navy Seal trained in extraction and rescue.
After penetrating the second story perimeter, he got to work picking the lock. I covered him.
When the lock proved uncrackable, he dismantled it with a butter knife.
I can’t imagine why the lock stopped working. I thought it still looked ok, and apparently so did our landlady. Instead of replacing the 40 year old rusty Peruvian lock, she spent the entire next day visiting locksmiths trying to find someone to fix the old piece of shit. She succeeded.
Now it’s just a matter of time before we get locked in again, and, without our friend to save us, I fear we will only last as long as the food. And you can count in that category Mongo and Kiki. There is plenty of meat on those bones. We must make sure Sprinter Life survives.
But we’re all ok now, thanks to our friends. Speaking of dogs, this is the first one that Stevie didn’t try to bring home. I was pretty happy she didn’t, for obvious reasons. It’s scary.
Clearly the reports of Navy Seals being fearless are true. He was probably the first person to touch this thing… ever.