PANDEMICALLY SPEAKING, It was a beautiful day in the neighborhood

Several weeks ago, a perfect weekend landed in our area. The two days were full of warmth, sun, easy breezes, and the pollen was still clinging to the vine but getting ready for flight and fluff.

I needed to put the last of the Holiday lights back into storage, so I  decided to selflessly save the earth by not driving my hybrid (that uses little or no gas to begin with, so I don't know why I was so on a high horse about my heroics) the block and a half to the storage unit that holds my holiday  decorations and other miscellaneous wares.

I walked up the hill and went straight to the key pad that controls the security gate. beep beep, beep beep beep and I was in! Easy as you please. I rounded the bend to my unit, unlocked it, put my lights in their rightful place and BAM! I was done! I locked up and headed home.

When  I reached the security gate, I noticed a sensor on either side of the gate, but where was the punch pad? That was an important moment; the moment I could not recall ever having to punch my way OUT, only IN. "Well, that's a fine fix I've made." I thought to myself as I looked high and low for a way to get out. I think it is safe to say that the storage company I use, goes to great lengths to provide lock down security for its customers. I might have been relieved to know that on any other day, but today, not so much.

I approached the gate again, trying to see if I could set off the sensors, but nothing happened except for a little blinking. I tried to make myself bigger. Maybe if I pretended I was a vehicle, that would do the trick, but no matter how tall or wide or rounded I tried to make myself, the sensor knew better.  I rolled my arms like a wheel. I jumped up and down. The gate just sat there watching with fencing pity.

The day was ending, and I was thankful for the warm Spring days, but this one was fading into evening-night. I fended off the growing anxiety by reminding myself that I had taken many a nap in my favorite beach chair that was residing in my storage unit. Before I could completely exhale, I also had the vision of all the creatures that only come out at night. Snakes and rats, sharp taloned owls and bats. I wanted to go home.

I looked through the fencing, watching people walk by. No one noticed the freaked out lady behind the fence, no one felt the desperate gazing, the pleading eyes, or the arthritic fingers wrapped around the wire wall.

A young woman with two small children and a big dog meandered within hearing distance.  With both hands grabbing hold of the fence and my face pressed into it, I spoke. "Uh, excuse me. Excuse me, ma'am."  She stopped and it took her a minute to see. Her eyes glanced my way, then focused on me, Godzilla's elderly lost and  now found granny. The leash tightened , her grasp on the stroller, too.

"I'm so sorry to bother you, but I decided to walk over here today, I just live across the street, over there" and I pointed, with a certainty I hoped would disguise my shaky voice. I didn't realize I wouldn't be able to get back out and I wonder if I told you the numbers to push on that keypad (scraggly finger points to target)  could you please let me out?"

She thought a minute. or maybe it was an hour. "Uh yes, I guess I could do that."
and she did.  I waited patiently while the gate dragged open and I made sure she was a very safe distance away, in case she was afraid I would run out like a screaming banshee. I wouldn't even if I could have. If anything, I tried to be invisible all the way home. I mean, who wants to be that lady who got herself locked in her own storage unit place, anyway? Right?