I Like Being MacGyver

I lock my keys in my car every couple of months. I think it's because I function on autopilot so much. I am responsible, dad, and I do have a set of spares, but they're locked in the apartment, now... Luckily, my car is a beater and has a useful broken bit - the back windows don't go all the way up. There's a good inch and a half gap through which Plastic Man/Elastagirl/Mr. Fantastic/Elongated Man can squeeze through and let me in. When they're not around, I sometimes taken an anvil and drop it on Wile E Cotoyte, and slip him through the crack. Barring that, I sometimes get to be MacGyver. This first time this happened was in a target parking lot, and I had the whole of their stock at my disposal. I got some chewing gum, and a few paper clips, a bucket in which to mix Amonia and Bleach, and then I passed out from fumes. Really, what I got was a big ass 7 foot long garden stake of some sort.

If you can buy that and not feel awkward you're a more confident person than I. 

The operation is simple: Reach into the cracked window with the wrought iron spear, arms overhead as if harpooning a whale, and carefully click the electric lock switch on the opposite door. 2 minutes tops. Yes, it's not nearly as cool as MacGyver's antics, but frankly, that guy could do with some simplifications of his schemes. He could probably get out of half of his scrapes if he just carried a big metal pole like this with him.

Seven minutes later, I awkardly stroll into the store to return my garden stake. 2 minutes to unlock my car, 5 minutes to pace outside coming up with a plausible excuse to immediately return it. I was vascillating between "I have a family emergency and must rush immediately to the airport" and "I forsook materialism in your parking lot"  but they return lady didn't ask any questions. The casheir who rung me up did catch my eye, but I just gave him an embarrassed  shrug, which I'm sure answered none of his questions.

I've since perfected this art of unlocking my car by twice using a broom, and earlier today, when none of my neighbors were home to lend me brooms, I wandered an alley until I found a discarded broken bunk bed with a piece of wood of appropriate size that I could wrench off. I don't knwo why this makes me feel badass.

This strategy has only failed me once, when I locked myself out while visiting the girlfriend on her lunch break at work. There was a conveniently located flag store nearby (yes, a flag store) but it was clearly a rinky dink mom & pop shop (yes, as opposed to a flag store chain). The lady was so excited to have a customer I couldn't handle the guilt of making her excited one minute only to crush her spirits 10 minutes later after returning her flag pole (10 minutes because this time I'd probably need at least 8 minutes to come up with a reason to immediately return a flag pole). I could just picture her heart breaking and she refunded my money, no attempt to hide the tears in her eyes as she took an eraser to her previously empty ledger.

Plus, she really had a minimal flagpole selection. I can judge this because I am apparently a connoisseur of... poles. I should probably rephrase that, but meh. Backspacing takes a lot of effort.