Strange Occurence at the Armory.

It was a normal day. Going through my daily routine, no worries or reason to be upset. I of course had things to do; I was on a mission to return home.

I had just dropped my girlfriend back off at work. I had picked her up to catch the lunch special at a local Mexican restaurant. I sat the left overs passenger side, holding them down every turn I made, making sure rice doesn’t go all over the leather seats. I’m very anal about rice spilling everywhere…

I picked up my cell phone and gave my friend a call. It rang twice and picked up. I could hear his mother talking, I thought nothing more of it; this happens quite often, I catch him in mid-convo with his mom, he picks up, while I wait patiently until they’re finished. I naturally listen to the conversation as best as I could.  His mother spoke of  “reports” and how they where almost ” finished”. The phone abruptly hung up. I was confused.

I looked down at the phone and saw it was now calling my Dad. I quickly hung up and examined the strange occurrence. The phone rang, it was my friend.

I answered and immediately told him what had happened. I explained how I could hear his mom. He said that was impossible; she was at work. He also informed me that he wasn’t returning my phone call, but just calling me, for no particular reason.

We both laughed at the strange coincidence. Trying to find plausibility in some way…

I pulled into my apartment, the Armory, still on the phone.  I parked out back and grabbed my left overs. This is where I don’t know what happen. I believe the keys slipped right through my hand; my mind was still on the conversation with my friend, preoccupied with the strange phone lines crossing.

I exited the car. Checked for the keys. Looked in window and there they sat. I tried to open it. The car was locked.

I got off the phone with my friend. Said a couple of bad words. See my keys were crucial to the rest of my day. I needed the keys not only to enter the  building, but to get into my apartment.  I would have to go all the way around to the other side of the building, to even find shelter. So I began my journey. It’s probably a five-minute walk. No biggie. It started to rain about two minutes in. I found that as ironic.

Once inside the building, I found a seat in the waiting area and sat my left overs next to me. I retrieved my Triple A card, knowing I had a service for such circumstances. My phone beeped. The awful beep of battery life.  I realized my phone was near death. I didn’t panic.

I  dialed the Triple A number. The woman was nice and comforting, she took my information, my location, name, and car description; everything you need to arrange a locked-keys-in-the-car fix. She said it would be a forty five minutes. I didn’t have a choice. She said she’s going to process it and to hold.

She started to apologize and told me her computer has frozen up and asked to call me back.  For some odd reason this was occurring, her computer had just stopped working. I told her my phone was going to die. She promised me she would run it through and someone would be there shortly.  I said thank you and she hung up. My phone beeped.

I went to back entrance, staking out my looking spot in hopes of an early arrival. I know I had time. I sat my leftovers on the floor, leaned up against the wall and examined the strange events. I had thought it was over. All I had to do was wait.

My phone beeped. The battery crying out to me. Neighbors passed, said hello, I smiled and they moved on with their lives. Fifty minutes had gone by. Where are they?

I stared through the glass. I felt anxious. I tried to find possibilities of hope; I thought maybe the truck would go out front, I know I told them outback, but anything is possible. Right?

So I took once last good look out the window and darted to the front. Leaving my leftovers on the floor.

Out-front, I looked around outside. Nothing. No one. No service at all. Shit.

I scurried back to my stake out, looked out the window. Nothing. I leaned my head against the glass, condensation formed as I took a deep breath of frustration.

An hour had passed. My phone took its final beep.

I still tried to remain positive. Maybe the service had shown up and I had just missed it. I decided to venture out and check to see if they unlocked my car. That could happen. I grabbed the nearby trashcan in the door,  placed it in the doorway, securing it open.

I trotted to my car. It sprinkled rain. I looked inside, my eyes scanning the leather seats. My keys still remained rested in position.

I retreated back to my post. This time walking. I came to the door, grabbed the trash can and this is when life slowed down for a split second.  I watched the door shut, my hands still wrapped around the trashcan. My mind told me to react, but instead I hesitated.

The door shutting echoed in my chest. I realized, I would now have to travel around the apartment to get inside the building. Again.

I said some bad words and began my journey.  It had been at least an hour and half. As I walked, I examined the unfolding of these strange occurrences. I was overwhelmed. I really thought it couldn’t get any stranger. But then it did.

Suddenly I stood in a three-foot hole. The ground had given away to what looked to be a sinkhole.  I stood in it for a moment. Overcome with fate. The rain had stopped and the sun had come out and there I was, in a sinkhole, outside my apartment.

I shook my head. That’s all I could do. I tried to take picture with my phone, trying to save the evidence, quickly realizing it was dead. I brushed off the dirt and mulch and slowly walked away.

When I returned to my post, I was no longer anxious. I was tired and worn out. I was ready for the day to be over. Frustrated and confused, I took a seat near the door.

That’s when I spotted the truck coming around the corner. I was relieved, but found it hard to have  joy. The truck stopped. What I wanted to do was run out there screaming ” over here! right here!” I stayed composed and waited. I knew he was reviewing the order. A moment passed and then the truck carried on, past the back drive to the front.

I had told them the back drive multiple times. So many times. How could they mess this up? I waited, hoping the driver would recognize his mistake. I waited. And waited. Nothing.

I darted to the front.

Up front, I scanned the area, the parking lot full of cars. Nothing. Where the shit hell is he?

I sprinted back. I looked through the glass and seen nothing. He had left. I had no cell phone, my left overs where  going bad here soon and I have mulch in my underwear from the sinkhole. I wanted to scream.

I busted through the door, found my car in the corner. Parked next to it, was the service man on his cell phone trying to call me.

A smile over came my face. After some small talk, he unlocked the car. I signed some papers and he drove off.

I clipped the keys to my belt loop, entered into the building, grabbed my left overs. Went up the stairs, unlocked my apartment, plugged in my phone. It beeped.

Later as I lay on the couch, I again reviewed the strange occurrences. Trying to find plausibility in the unfolding of events. I tried to even go back to where it could had started, to answer questions; how and why life puts you where you are. These were small events, not life changing in any way. But every single moment was for a reason for the next to occur; I truly believed that now, for this was all just one strange occurrence at the Armory.

Published by robhox

Writer, filmmaking, picture-taking. Don't ever call me 'rob'

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