My First Felony

October 9, 2009

Stuck in Richmond, not a car key in sight, Chris offered the ultimate sacrifice.

Chris volunteered to drive me up to Northern Virginia, where hopefully I could get my backup car keys, then drive me back to Richmond so I could return myself to Northern Virginia.

“Where’s the rub?” you ask. My second set of car keys is kept at my dad’s house. Along with my car keys, my dad’s house key was on my pink camel keychain. My dad is currently in St. Louis, visiting his mom for her birthday.

(Grandma if you’re reading this, happy birthday!)

(Also, congrats on finding an abandoned computer and setting up the Internet.)

(I always knew you could do it.)

Then I remember my mom (who is also out of town, though in her case for business) left her keys on the coat rack in her foyer, for if I needed to use her car.

She has a key to my dad’s house. And I still have my second keychain, with the key to her car and house.

Are you confused yet?

It gets worse.

Good humour is the secret to any endless road trip/illegal breaking and entering adventure.

Arriving at my mom’s house, it is discovered I don’t have the key to her house. As I am positive I keep it on the same keychain with her car key, the keychain I am holding in my hand at her front door, this is mysterious.

I do have the key to the door in the garage. Alas, even with Chris’ manly strength we can’t open the garage door.

As a last ditch effort, we walk around to the back and try the sliding door.

And it opens.

This strikes both horror and elation deep in my soul. But I put aside my lifelong fear of people breaking into my home and the discovery that it’s apparently easy to do so, to run upstairs and grab my mom’s keys.

After a quick stop for lunch, where Chris revised his opinion of Northern Virginia based upon his delicious burger, we drove to my dad’s house.

While the key would go into the deadbolt, no amount of force could cause it to turn.

After taking a short break to laugh at the absurdity of our lives, we walked around back to check other entrance options. My dad had planned ahead before leaving town, leaving us unable to open his sliding door.

Checking the back windows, we discover they are all locked, with screens in place.

Push key into door, attempt to turn, pull doorknob out slightly, try again, now push door in slightly, try again.

And again.

And then I noticed the library window is unlocked. Yes, that library window.

The one in the front of the house, on the first floor, behind the gigantic bushes.

Chris’ fear of spiders, along with my fear of being eaten by giant shrubbery makes us hesitate. A quick trip to the garage later, we have a plan.

A somewhat ludicrous plan, but a plan nonetheless.

(My dad’s garage is broken enough that we can open the doors. Another comforting fact to learn.)

We have planks of wood. We have chest high bushes.

What could go wrong?

Wood is the burglary tool of the future.

Chris, as he climbs onto the unstable wood, looks back at me and laughing says, You know I’m not going to pay for any damage whatsoever, right?

My thoughtful response,You know we’re not going to pay for any medical bills, right?

Surprisingly managing to avoid grievous injury, we then remember something.

The screen.

Another trip to the garage, and one paint scrapper later, that’s no longer a problem.

One screen successfully removed.

Around this time, a neighbor I’m unfamiliar with drives by, but given our lack of arrest, apparently finds this non-remarkable and does not contact the police.

I’d like to take a moment here for a safety reminder.

Lock your windows.

Seriously.

When Chris hesitated, I taunted him with the spiders crawling onto the wooden plank from the bushes. No! I would never do such a terrible thing.

Chris didn’t hesitate to dive inside, so I wasn’t put to the test.

After finally getting into the house, we couldn’t unlock the front door, got lost on the drive back to Richmond, then realized we had left my dad’s backup house key inside.