I moved into this apartment on June 10th, 2003. That spring was a very wet one — it rained almost constantly from April through the end of July. When I say “constantly”, I mean that, every day it rained. It was a very wet few months, but it was water we needed as we were experiencing a drought. It was pretty cool, though, as the Loch Raven — which was so low under the Merryman Mill/Warren Road bridge that you could see the bottom — filled up so high and beautiful.

I had been worried because I had made arrangements to borrow Gary’s big Dodge pickup to move from my studio to my new (and current) apartment. Would my furniture be soaked? Thankfully, June 10th dawned a bright sunny (dry!) and hot day and I was able to move all of my furniture and posessions without drenching everything.

Sketchy and a buddy of his had helped me move, and they hit the road at three. I made one last stop at my old place to get all the little stuff I’d left, and had all that unloaded by five. I was hot and sweaty and I stunk. My plan was to start a load of laundry, take a shower, then head to the grocery store and run a few errands.

Whoops. The shower knob didn’t work. It turned out all it needed was tightening, but I’m not exactly the brightest bulb when it came to home repairs. So, unable to shower, I mumbled and set out for Home Depot, still stinkin’ because I had no clean clothes and no way to shower. I found a new shower knob, then set off for Best Buy — the Extended Cut of Robin Hood: Prince of Thieves had been released that day on DVD and darnit, I wanted a copy. Then I went to Giant for food to stock my fridge with. I just want to say that I am very, very sorry to everyone who had to smell my “moving funk” that day. Um. Sorry.

Arriving home I wanted nothing more than to throw the DVD into the player and watch the movie. Sure, my living room was filled with unpacked boxes, but my priorities were set — the night before, I’d gotten my apartment keys and had brought over my loveseat and TV/Stand/DVD player so I could watch “Big Trouble in Little China”, a first-night-in-a-new-home tradition for me. (I’d bought it the day before I moved into my studio apartment and watched it that first night).

Anyway …

So I pull up in front of my apartment, and as I start unpacking groceries and dvds and …

“Excuse me…”

It was this straggly guy, his name was Wayne, I would learn*, from the building next door. He wanted a ride to the liquor store. He had this vague “hippy” like thing going, probably as a result of spending every waking moment of every day drinking. He played the neighbor card, and I consented — I mean, hell, the liquor store was only right down Cranbrook Road. We drove down, he got his beer, we drove back, him talking all the while about his ex-girlfriend, and how he wanted to get married, and how his dad was supporting him, and … so on and so on.

Back at the building, he insisted I come over to his place and have a drink. I begged off — he’d seen me moving all day — and I was very tired and in need of a shower. He accepted that and we went our seperate ways. Until yesterday, he’d never asked me for a ride again.

I was heading out to pick up him and her on our way to her party.

I tried to explain that I was in a bit of a rush, but that wasn’t really the truth — if anything, I was leaving waaay early. In any case, I agreed to give him a ride to the liquor store, but that he’d be on his own getting back. Halfway to the liquor store I realized I’d forgotten the directions to Linda’s place, so I’d have to go home anyway. This was cool with Wayne, who quickly secured the arrangement with the promise of a cool, crisp $5 bill in exchange for the ride.

Um. Cool!

The whole way down and to he was all, “Woah! G-forces maaaan, I need a spacesuit!” as I put my car through a series of very routine stops, turns, and accelerations. Pulling out of the shopping center on the way back, I put pedal to metal to avoid the oncoming bus. “Woah!” he said. “Trying to crush me, man?”

Um. Yeah.

Returning, he unloaded his case of beer, paid me, and shuffled off to his apartment. I went to mine as well, where I realized to my great dismay that my new apartment key had done the same as the old one and snapped in two.

This time, in the lock.

Thankfully, I hadn’t locked the deadbolt and I was able to get the door open. Leaving half the key in the knob, I grabbed my spares and raced out the door, locking the deadbolt behind me. I’m off to Home Depot in a few minutes to get a new copy of the key made — I really don’t much trust the quality of key material my landlord is making, can you blame me? I’ll call them later and ask them to remove the bit of broken key in the knob.

*He told me this half a dozen times. “My name’s Wayne, didja know?”