Being Awkward in Germany

Whenever I write something I operate under the principle of "show, don't tell." I've told you that I'm awkward, but I haven't shown you that I'm awkward. And now I feel this great need to show you and prove that, yes, I am really awkward.

Which is kind of awkward in itself, now that I think about it. However, in case you're not convinced, let me tell you about the time I went to Europe with a huge group of nonLDS people. The first night, we stayed in a little hotel in Munich, Germany.

That night my roommates went to a club.

"I don't think I'll go," I said. "I think I'll write my parents." Our room, which was on the fifth floor right next to the owners' quarters and office, had this big fat heavy key. When you went out you gave it to the owners and then you got it back when you came in. Because I stayed in, my roommates simply left the key in the room with me.

Well, first order of business was to get my converter working. I had to go to the desk to ask for tape because the plugs wouldn't stay. They didn't have any, and the German owner guy looked at me like I was nuts. Finally I figured out how to snap the plugs in place and charged my iPod. Then I stepped out to ask the guy for the Internet password. I felt weird about leaving my room open even though it was right next door, so I shut it and took the key with me.

After I got the password I went to open the door. It wouldn't open.

OH NO. I turned the key every which way, turned it upside down, braced myself and pulled as hard as I could. That got me nowhere.

How could this be? I remembered that I'd changed the lock settings before showering. The door must have locked from the inside!

"No no no," I whimpered. I'd already put some distance between myself and my roommates by declining to go out with them. I could only imagine what they would feel when they came back to find that I'd locked us out of our room. Maybe the owners would break the lock and we'd have to sleep without one. Maybe we'd have to move to a different room--my roommates would be forced to drag their stuff up and down the stairs while inebriated. If there even was another room. Maybe we wouldn't be able to get our stuff at all and would be forced to sleep without it. In the hall. Or the elevator. "No no no!" I refused to be THAT roommate.

I stared at the lock intensely like I could open it through sheer force of will. After five minutes it became clear this wasn't going to work and, for the third time in like ten minutes, I rang the desk bell for the owner guy.

He looked at me like, "Really? You again?" I explained my plight. He walked over to the door and, with a sharp twist of the key, opened it.

"Good night," was all he said. The "you're an idiot," part was implied.