our first new orleans sleepover

We don't know how it happened.

Singh and Palovi invite us to go to dinner at Nirvana, a hopping Indian restaurant down in New Orleans. We accept at 7:30, walk out the door at 7:45, lock it at 7:46, hop into their car at 7:47, and at 7:48 our keys are missing. Between our door and the car, they keys have magically disappeared. (I don't know what it is with us and missing keys).

We look for them for about thirty minutes, and in that time have three people try to help us:

First. Man in a suit walks by and tells Michael his fail-proof plan (apparently he loses things and finds them all the time): think of the last place you know you had it. We already tried this, and we tell him so. They are not in the lock of our door. He repeats the advice, and walks away.


Second. George the Greek tells me to pull out my phone. I do so. He then recites a number three times and tells me to call it; apparently they'll come unlock my door for $50. Thanks, but no thanks, George. He proceeds to tell me about his fail-proof plan: he always keeps his keys on a lanyard around his neck (it also carries a whistle for special occasions). He also has an extra set stored in his car and in his house. He then says this same exact thing to Michael. He just really badly wants me to call the number.


Third. Jennifer from the floor below us is walking by with groceries, and returns with a flashlight--ah, blessed relief. Real help. But still, no luck.

The buffet at Nirvana closes at 9:00 and Singh is getting anxious about missing out on that deal, so we leave without our keys. The curry is delicious, as is the mango yogurt stuff (sorry, no good with Indian names), but enjoying it is a little difficult as I worry first about our keys and then about where we're going to stay tonight.

Drive home, look for keys, but they are nowhere to be found.

Luckily, Singh and Palovi live next door. And they're really generous. And they offer us their floor, a sleeping bag, and a blanket.

The office managers come in at 8:00 AM, but all of Michael's stuff for work is in our mysteriously locked apartment, so he texts his ride and says he won't be going to work until later.

A restless night in jeans ensues.

7:00 AM we're out looking again, hoping the sun will make those dern keys magically appear.

Singh's leaving for work at 7:15, so we check his car one more time. Michael emerges from the car victorious; the keys have magically appeared between the seat and the seat belt buckle.



I'm not sure what that was all about or why it all happened, but it sure does make for a good blog post.

It just better not happen again.