October 26th, 2008
I’m being held captive in my own apartment
Help. I’m being held captive in my own apartment building. I went downstairs to the “mezzanine” to get my car, and low and behold, the garage gate wasn’t opening. The guy in front of me (with a very sexy british accent), suggested I try my remote, but it didn’t work. So I offered to walk across the street to the Mercantile building (which owns my building) and ask them for assistance.
I’ve had one previous experience with the Mercantile in the past when Main Street was closed and I had to park in the Mercantile’s garage. I went to the front desk for a visitor’s pass and ran into a small party of obscenely pretentious people who looked me up and down with wide eyes as if to say, “Who let this one in?”
When I told the man at the front desk today that the garage at the Wilson wasn’t opening and that the residents couldn’t get out, he looked up from behind the counter, smiled approvingly, and said, “Okay.”
He proceeded to make a call on his walkie talkie, but something told me he wasn’t in too much of a hurry to rectify the problem.
In other downtown news, they’re bouncing a three-story, inflatable, beach ball down Elm Street. It has something to do with a Guinness world record. I’ve posted a picture to my Flickr stream for those interested.
