My Folle Vole... or just a bad night CW#6

I sit on the cold marble stairs in the dim hallway leading to my apartment door, head down, shoulders slumped. I am beaten yet again by an impossible Roman lock. I quadruple-check the brass nameplate beside the door and see “No.5” scribbled on a scrap of paper there. I go over a quick checklist in my head: right apartment, the key fits. So why am I still stuck out here and not comfortably asleep in bed? I try again. Pushing myself off the floor, I approach the door, warily hesitant but hopeful, putting my obnoxiously large key in lock for the umpteenth time. One turn, two turns... My anticipation builds with each successive click of metal, right up to that moment before the fourth and final deadbolt is supposed to be pushed away… and my key gets stuck. Again. I push on the door and turn the key then pull and turn. Nothing. I bang on the door, taking short breaks to hold down the doorbell. Still nothing. I guess it won’t do any good now… it didn’t work half an hour ago either. How can no one be home at midnight?

At the end of another long day, spent treading unknown miles on uneven cobblestone streets, I want nothing more than to sleep, even if it’s on the smallest, loudest mattress in all of Rome. For a moment I consider lying down right there, grabbing a nice piece of hard marble floor and waiting for my roommates to come home. But how long will they be? That last deadbolt, unseen behind the door, taunts me, unmoving. I am too frustrated to stay here any longer, so I take to the streets. The only thing open this late? Bars. I take a seat in one around the corner, keeping my eyes peeled for any sign of my friends. I need to stay awake so I don’t miss them when they return, yet the loud music doesn’t stop me from dosing. I buy a coke and pinch myself, doing a quick assessment of my situation. How unlikely is it for me to be locked out of my apartment in the early morning of my third day in this country?

I can’t resist the urge to fall asleep in this bar, so I get up and head in a random direction, willing my tired feet to move. Maybe they’re all at the Rome Center hanging out with the girls. That’s possible, why didn’t I think of that before? With new hope, I head in that direction, only to find an empty Rome center. Maybe I missed them on the way over and they’re back at home. Nope, no guys here either. But maybe, just maybe they’re dropping the girls off at their apartment first. I try the Rome Center one last time. Still no sign of them. I debate sleeping in the Honors room that night. I seriously consider which is more comfortable, a wooden table or a marble floor.

I decide to go back and try one last time. I cross the Tiber River for the 10^th timeTiber River today. Maybe, hopefully, my roommates are home. I try my key one last time. Unable to open it, I follow with the usual routine: a few hard bangs and some doorbell ringing. But my attempts are only half-hearted. I am resigned, beaten and tired. I give up. I’m too tired to walk anymore so I take a seat on the stairs and I doze off. I don’t know how long I sit here, nor do I care once I hear familiar voices. I've never been so happy to see my roommates. When I finally get inside, I head straight for my room. And there I find Scott, sleeping in bed all along. Apparently, he didn’t hear anything when I asked the next morning… apparently.