It was summertime, so I didn't really notice the temperature of the floor, or maybe I would have paused for some shoes on the way down to the basement. I had to leave the door unlocked, because I could only operate the massive, French made, 20 pin-tumbler, 4 cylinder-blocker, New-York-City-crime-resistant lock from the inside of the door, as I did not have a copy of the strange, weapon-like key. I was five years old, and could not be trusted with objects that were not designed to be destroyed by five year olds.
I walked down the hall to the elevator and pressed the button next to the "B". This would take me to the basement, where my parents would be doing laundry incessantly, together, for hours at a time, almost every night. There really wasn't anything else for them to do when I was asleep. When the door opened I noticed that it was dark in the basement, especially in the room with the rats in it… The one with a wide opening into the hall between the elevator and the laundry room… This was not a problem, my parents were waiting just beyond it, so there was no need to fear the 2 foot long objects darting across the single square of dim light in the dark chamber…
The basement floor was cold enough to remind me of the usefulness of shoes, a discomfort which seemed negligible until I rounded the corner into the laundry room to discover a total lack of parents. They didn't even have a load running. It was time to get out of this creepy basement. I ran back to the elevator and went to push the button, but was cruelly reminded of my key-free existence again, as the elevator could not be called without leveling the pins of a circular lock from this level.
I decided the best course of action at this point was to get my cold feet of the basement floor, which could best be done by lying down on my stomach, a position which also allowed me to whimper while pounding the cement with my fists. This technique was known as the solution to almost any problem - but it failed here, due to principles which are too complex to be explained in this short blog. Suffice to say that I declared it a wash and stood up again, knowing it was time to start coming up with a plan. There were skeletons in the boiler room, and they would be hungry at this time of night, so I had better think fast.
Go to part 3
