I returned to the bedroom-cum-office and had to stop at the threshold. The girls were at the other door by the living room looking at the same thing: the floor was covered in broken glass. Next thing to hit us was the freezing wind blasting through the destroyed storm blinds and double-paned glass. For a moment we all gazed stupified at how our evening had changed course.
Then the bitter chill galvanized us into action. Photos taken, glass hauled in bucket brigades to the garbage bins, a new bed set up in the living room, radiators adjusted, and the bedroom sealed off with books, towels, and other crap. Looking down from our balcony you could see the remains of a scaffold from the construction site across the street that had smashed hard into our wall and tumbled into the awning of the restaurant below and finally into the street, blocking traffic. And the internet went out. I think I've finished office work for today.
OK, next for the phone calls. I found 2 glass places that offered 24/24 hr 7/7 day emergency service. Wow, that doesn't sound very French, I thought we'd have to wait until Friday morning to call. The first place was answered by a woman who thought it was a personal call. Blah, blah... I can't hear over the background noise... "Êtes vous Vitrerie Lyonnais?!" I asked, and the phone was passed from person to person until someone said yes, yes. But, they are closed, please call back tomorrow. OK, that sounds more French. The next place answered and said they could send someone around right away. Tomorrow morning at 10 to measure and then, you know since it is an emergency, they could install the new window on Monday. Looks like all of us were going to spend the next 4 nights sharing our front room listening to the wind hissing around the door frames. Maybe we could even tell ghost stories!
The internet guys arrives first, surprising us early in the morning while the girls are still padding around in their nightclothes. Quickly assessing the situation - two beautiful girls, an exotic beauty from India, the other a gorgeous redhead - he shoots me a look which says "I tip my hat to you, sir!" Our internet situation is not so pretty however and he can't fix it, so I'll be spending the day using the local bookstore's internet.
After measuring our window, the window guy gives us the good news that he can be back tomorrow to replace it, but he can't fix the blinds. The blind guy (well you know what I mean, he can see) quotes us $1300 to replace that. The glass is $400 and the curtains unknown. I'm glad I'm not paying for it!
Just as life is returning to normal, Jen has left, the window is fixed, and we decide to try the restaurant right below us, the next disaster hits. I realize I left my key chain dangling from a USB port. Monica doesn't have hers either... Uh oh. Our landlord told us we had the only 2 keys, but surely... Uh oh, our cellphone has just run out. The restaurant owner lets us use her phone and call our landlord and the building concierge and confirm that really those are the only keys. Locksmith? The other options are to get up to our balcony somehow and re-break the window (at least we know how much that will cost to fix) or get to the small open window of our bathroom which is 40 ft above nothing. I could reach our balcony from the neighbors' and climb over the metal security spikes - if the neighbors were home.
Next, the bathroom approach. Nobody we know has a ladder remotely tall enough to reach it directly, but the window has a ledge only 5ft away from it which you can get to from the landing. It's just the last bit that is certain death. There is a horizontal metal spar from the elevator to the building wall high above the bathroom window... With some rope which we don't have you could throw it over the spar and swing Tarzan-like over to the window, assuming the spar isn't just a stabilizing brace and can support some weight. Otherwise, you're back to that 40 ft fall again. The restauranteur and her husband the cook call locksmiths for us because they can really charge a ransom. Well, for $225 they can be here in half an hour to let us in. Hmmm, it's cheaper than breaking a window...
Two hours later after much banging, sliding, and re-assuring of neighbors, the locksmith and his partner conclude our lock is too resistant to all their tricks and they'll have to drill and replace the lock. That will cost $1300. Aack! No, we're not going to make that decision tonight. We're cold and we need to sleep and regroup. We can call Rita, she's just 2 blocks away, maybe we can crash there, but the cell is out. No wait! There's an automated way to recharge it with a CB card (which we have- it's a Visa/ATM with a smart chip on it). Success! And we call Rita who isn't home... Probably visiting her boyfriend in Aix-les-Bains this weekend. Next, we try Mark, and he says sure come crash at his place, his date with Isabel is just finishing. Oh no! We didn't ruin his date did we? No, he had to leave in a sec anyway if he was going to catch The Last Metro. Ack! The Last Metro! Run!! Hey at least we don't have any change of clothes, toiletries, or other things to slow us down. Puff, puff, stairs down, and wham! Metal rolldown doors have sealed our nearest entrance. Quick! The big entrance! Yeah! It's open! And there's the crowd waiting for The Last Metro. We made it.
At Mark's we talk about the game plan. We could even take the tram to one of the giant building centers at the edge of town and buy a tall ladder - it would be cheaper than replacing the window. We could even return it afterwards. Plus, we could buy stout rope for safety or the tarzan trick. Monica and I think we still won't find a tall enough ladder, but she proposes I use the ladder to climb as high as I can and then climb up the rope the rest of the way. Mark wants to see everything firsthand before committing to a plan and will bring his camera to take pictures. As for sleeping, Mark's place is a Parisian style studio. Very cute, cute being the operative word. There's enough room in there for him and one ant and the ant sleeps in the bathroom. So, um, where are we going to sleep? We all look around, look at each other and well...we're all grown-ups, scratch that, *despite* being grown-ups we just all squeezed into the one bed and fell asleep.
The next day after fresh coffee and croissants we felt more confident and returned to our apartment. Monica suggested we ask the construction foreman for a ladder and Mark used his superb Aussiecized French to get him to give us a super tall extension ladder! Bringing this around to the bathroom window we found that it still left us short. The elevator has a ledge about 4 feet up, what if we put the ladder up there? "Absolutely not!" shouted Monica. But the boys overrule her and, whimpering, she and Mark (who is not whimpering) hold the ladder on the ledge while I scramble up, and reach the top. But I'm at the top and still can't quite reach. Mark calls out "There's no more rungs!" But the sides go up just a little higher than the top rung... The next sound is laughter. Monica and Mark looked up and all they see is a pair of legs sticking out of the window. I'm in!
It actually took a while after that as I hung in the window moving things and taking apart the shelving so I could ooze into the bathroom without causing a lot of damage. Then the celebrations: beer for the foreman and a kiss on the cheek from Monica which made the gruff guy turn shy for a moment, then off to a swishy place to treat Mark to lunch. The place was decorated in hot pink and black with every picture on the wall being an Andy Warhol-ish series of naked butts. Nevermind the buts or the butts... Here's to success! (Clink! Clink! Clink!)
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