After I posted my blog last night, I decided to nip across the road to Nunu’s bar to have a beer.
Andrea was working so I had an hour to sink a couple of Guinness. I stepped outside the door and swung it closed behind me. Just as the door closed I realized that I’d left my keys inside. ‘F!*&’ I said as I checked my pockets for my keys. Nothing there.
I decided not to kick the door in because that might cost a lot to repair and bring unwanted attention to me at 9:00pm at night. I decided to walk over to Andrea at the restaurant to see if she had her keys. Deep down I knew she didn’t because she doesn’t usually take her keys when I’m at home.
I passed a man sitting on the steps of the apartment block as I walked down. I thought it was a little strange and also not too strange because I’d seen this guy before coming out of our neighbour Steve’s apartment.
As I crossed the road I heard the garage door open, I looked back to see the guy open the garage. Hmmmm.
As I suspected Andrea didn’t have her keys. I knew I’d have to stump up the cash and call a locksmith. A couple of calls later Alcatraz Security were sending a guy out to me. I was told that someone should be out to me in about twenty minutes.
I stayed with Andrea for about ten minutes and told her her about the guy on the steps and then opening the garage. She thought it was a bit odd too.
The garage is shared among the four apartments. It holds up to four cars and other odds and ends. Steve has an old Mercedes-Benz that has seen better days parked in his spot. He told me that the car belongs to his friend and he lets him leave it there. It has not moved since Andrea has been in the apartment.
I made my way back to the apartment to see if there was any sign of the lock-smith, as I made my way to cross the road the van passed by, obviously looking for the apartment. He wouldn’t be able to see the apartment number, which is on the garage door, because it was still open.
I crossed the road and as I did the guy who sitting on the steps was now in the garage and came out to me and said, “What the f*** do you think you’re doing looking in my garage, you want some ‘mo**********g trouble?”. I was a little taken back by this. I honestly didn’t know if he was going to have a swing at me.
I said, “this section belongs to me and my girlfriend, why is the door open?”, he said, “Oh, I’m sorry man, I thought you was gonna rob the place, see I am keeping an eye on the place, I’m real sorry.”
The locksmith phoned, I told him to back up and that he’d see me as he came back up the road. He came in and did his thing. Before he let me in the apartment he asked if I had anything inside with my name on it. No. I had to call Andrea and she gave him details and when I did get into the apartment I showed him a bill with Andrea’s name on it.
He put the lock back on (still working) and charged me $100 dollars for the ten minutes it took him to do the job.
A week earlier I suggested to Andrea that we get a key cut and put it somewhere in the garage in case of an emergency just like this. I’m kind of glad I didn’t because of this ‘geezer’ hanging around the garage.
There is something odd about the goings on next door. When I wrote earlier that I saw this guy coming out of Steve’s apartment before, I didn’t mention that he didn’t have any top on. It was night and he went downstairs and leaned into a car and either took something or gave something to the driver.
I told Andrea about that she thought I was being funny. Then two weeks ago as we were both leaving the apartment we saw this same guy leave Steve’s apartment with his tracksuit bottoms pulled down! I can't help but think that this guy might be a male prostitute. Steve, after all does enjoy the company of other men.
I don’t know what to say to Steve, if anything about the garage incident.