Locked out – again

By admin

There is a vaguely nauseating feeling of foolishness and dread as the door shuts. I am fully aware that it is locked. Last time I did this, I was completely oblivious, until I tried the handle and realized I was stuck outside. At least I am dressed this time.

I will spare you the tedious, extended shenanigans and jump ahead four hours to the arrival of the locksmith. Saved! I think. After several hours outside in the 100+° heat, I could not be more relieved. In 10 or 15 minutes, that lock will be open, and I’ll be inside, enjoying the A/C and some nice cold watermelon.

Nope.

The lock won’t budge. David, the locksmith, tries several different methods to pick it, but this lock will not give. I’m feeling pleased with the safety of my home, but frustrated to be on the wrong side of the door. David is going to have to break the lock.

I picture a surgical strike at the heart of the mechanism – drill out the center and it magically releases and David replaces the barrel. This is not when he means. When he says break it, he means the whole thing. David takes a wrench and twists the handle 100, 170, 240 degrees. Soon it is rotating a full 360. And the door still will not open. This is where the real work begins. David returns to his truck for yet more tools and begins to dismantle the entire handle. Since we are on the outside, the handle is not designed to be disassembled from here. In fact, it is expressly designed to resist exactly what David is trying to do. I feel ever more pride in my choice of lock. It is doing a fantastic job of protecting my home from me.

The smashing, prying and bending begin. Pieces fall away. I recognize some of them from when I installed the handle earlier this year. Soon, David is able to reach into the mechanism and unlock it. And the door still will not open. Really. It’s unlocked, but the tongue part will not retract. David continues to beat the handle into submission. I can’t watch.

A full hour after he arrived, David has opened the door. He has a used lockset, similar to my now-defunct lockset, in his truck. He replaces my shiny, nearly-new, matching handle with a scratched and scabby interloper. But at this point, it’s in better shape than mine, and it works.

Thank you, David.

The moral of this sad and, yes, tedious story? Always carry your keys – even if you’re not planning to leave the vicinity of your front stoop. Or unlock the door, stupid.

And buy Schlage. Or, if you’re prone to lock-outs, don’t.