Customs: Where even the most calm and collected person will be tempted to flip their sh*t.

One unavoidable aspect of traveling is going through customs security. Most of the time it is a simple but annoying process. Then there are those times that customs and security are so mind-boggling frustrating that I am tempted to say, “ Can I see what’s in YOUR bag”, or “I just went through security, what could you possibly find that team didn’t 5 minutes ago?”. I also have a fantasy of throwing my belongings at the airport security and yelling, “I don’t need to take this, Jaz out!” I understand that these people are just doing their jobs. However airports and train station security have given me experiences that I will remember for a life time. I give you the ongoing series: Customs.

Ireland Edition: You guys are pushing it.
The only real advice I can give when it comes to dealing with customs is to just go with it and be polite in the face of absurdity. Having an attitude or showing any sign of weakness will only make things worse. By the time I had traveled my second time to Ireland in the fall of 2011 I had my fair share of stories and experiences with customs and security. But I had never flown back to America near the time of September 11th before. It had occurred to me that it might be a “thing” I needed to deal with. But I was coming from Dublin. How bad could it be? Apparently it’s a big deal no matter where you are flying from. Oh, and it was the 10 anniversary of September 11th as well.
I got to the airport a little over two hours before my flight as you are supposed to for international flights. I had lucked out in printing my boarding pass 24 hours ahead of time. Taking a quick glance at the line of people waiting to get it printed out and check in I knew I had made the right call. It was one of the longest lines I had seen in an airport on a non-holiday. I walked in the direction of my terminal and was greeted by an employee asking to see my boarding pass and passport. After he gave it back he instructed me to go to security. I briefly thought it was odd because with most European airports you don’t go through actual security until you get to your gate. The line was long but I had a lot of time so I wasn’t too worried. It seemed other people were a bit flustered though. They were mostly Americans which didn’t surprise me because we are among the most impatient of people (I say that with plenty of pride and love for my country, USA! USA!). At this point I am pretty good and efficient at airport security routines. Even though I get slightly nervous before it’s my turn to go through the scanner. What if I drop my bag and it falls open? What if I go off in the scanner and they ask me questions? I will slow down the line and everyone will stare at me! It went pretty smoothly and I was instructed to go to the US customs and passport control line. Every country does this a little differently but I did recall that coming from Ireland previously had been a bit more paperwork than other places. First off, The US passport control is in a completely isolated section of the airport. Though Dublin airport is not huge compared to other international airports, it is still a bit of a walk. I had to take several escalators down to actually get to the line which of course was very long. Once again judging by the amount of people there I was in for a long wait. The security team had people fill out standard customs form before entering the line. There were two lines; one for Americans and one for everyone else and neither seemed to be moving more quickly than the other. I have been security and custom lines before but this one seemed to be more intense. The security team were picking people out of the line and openly interrogating them on what they were doing there, why were they traveling, why their papers were out of order, etc. Of course it was hard not to notice that the people being questioned had darker skin and exotic accents. This wasn’t the first time I had witnessed this kind of obvious racial profiling but it still made me a little uneasy. It was easy to see to it had that effect on other people's moods as well. I kept quiet while trying to keep my mind blank and not focus on how slow this line was going. It took me about 40 minutes to get to the front. The reason it was talking so long was they were talking to each person for a long time. Some people were getting flustered or agitated which seemed to make the conversations go longer. Even though I had done this before I was getting nervous. I Of course had done nothing wrong but I feared if I said anything weird it might make things go south for me since it appeared security was taking this very seriously. By the time it was my turn I walked up with a smile and did the standard, “Hello, How are you?”. I can’t remember what the man said because I was nervous. He asked the normal questions, “How long have you been here? Where did you fly in from before this? Where in America are you going?”. I answered all of them politely and then he asked why I visited Dublin. I said for travel and friends. He asked “Have you done a lot of partying?”. I immediately replied, “Not a lot, no”. He looked at and smiled, ‘Well why not?. I laughed, “I did some! But you guys make me nervous so I just said it!”. He laughed and stamped my passport.
After getting my passport stamped I walked down a hallway to what I assumed was my gate. But alas it lead me to another security check and scan. Another one! I had done the scan once already. What could I possibly have in my case that I didn’t have at the first check? After almost two hours of security my patience was wearing thin but I did what I needed to do and went through the check. Finally I got to my gate which seemed to be super small and guarded. No stores except for a candy stand. Since that was my only option I went and grabbed one for before the flight. The lady at the register said she needed to scan my passport. I obliged but looked at her questionably. She sighed and told me that now anytime a customer buys something in the US terminal their passport must be scanned and what they bought must be registered in the system. I started laughing, I couldn’t help it. I could see the headlines now, “4’11 girl brings down plane with caramel chocolate bar.” The lady told me it was new regulations and I felt for her. I am sure other people gave her a hard time about it.
Finally it was time to board the plane. The scene was again a bit chaotic as people were frazzled and tired. I got in line as usual as they checked my boarding pass and ticket. But instead of walking straight onto the plane everyone had to walk a couple of hallways down…to another line. This line actually lead to the ramp connected to the plane. When I got to the head of the line it appeared two security guards were checking people’s passports again! I swear I had this checked 5 times already. I held it out and the man asked if I had a passport cover to put my passport in. I didn’t as it is not mandatory. He took me out of line and another man came over to question me. Me!? Really?! He asked very serious questions that I have only been asked before boarding a flight to Israel. “Did you and you alone pack this suitcase? Did anyone give you any gifts? Anything that could be explosive? Can you be sure? Any electronics in your bag”. I answered accordingly clearly a bit annoyed. I was becoming one of the masses now. I didn’t care if my attitude showed. They were also asking these questions very quickly as if they were trying to get me flustered and confess. But I stood head-to-toe with their style and answered just as quick and efficiently as they were asking. Then my favorite part happened.

Security: What were you doing in Ireland?

Me: Traveling.

Security: How long did you stay?

Me: 5 and a half days.

Security: Where did you stay?

Me: At a friend’s house in Rahnnallgh neighborhood.

Security: Is your friend Irish?

Me: No.

Security: What nationally is your friend?

Me: Korean. South.

It was over. I had won. They don’t have anything on South Koreans. He gave me back my passport and I was on my merry way. Although I wasn’t so merry. I was angry. That was ridicules. It’s like the whole strategy was to make me confused and think, “Well I don’t know, Am I terrorist? I need to think about it now.” The plane had the same atmosphere as the gate. People were pissed and stressed. Some people almost didn’t make the flight because security took so long. People were snapping at each other while trying to get bags to fit in the overhead. People weren’t moving fast enough to their seats. The in-flight movie had been cancelled. It seemed like passenger war was about to break out.
Then a stewardess came in and started snapping at everyone to sit down. She started to openly and loudly complain to the other stewardess how she hated her job and how it took her 15 minutes to get to the gate. Whenever someone had a question she would roll her eyes before answering. It felt like the passengers all united mentally with each other after that. Everyone started talking to each other kindly. Because we all could on agree on two things: That security was ridicules and that stewardess is a total bitch.

Karma in Airports-I believe: Montreal

Following a rather weird incident involving Canadian customs in Montreal (see previous entry (http://travelingladyjaz.blogspot.com/2011/11/customs-where-even-most-calm-and.html). My traveling companion and I were a little pissed off and tired to say the least. We rushed over to our second connecting flight to another city in Canada before flying home (cheapest ticket). We got to the gate and noticed it was pretty crowded and overheard people saying the flight might be overbooked. Since I had never experienced that actually happening to me before I just naturally assumed it wouldn’t happen (I was new to traveling). Also since we were just searched for drugs by security everything else would work out alright (Again, new to traveling). About 40 minutes before the flight was to take off the flight staff announced, “Ladies and gentleman this flight has been overbooked and we will need some people to give up their seats”. I couldn’t believe it. All I wanted to do was get home. They made the announcement a couple more times and no one was budging. Then they said, “For anyone who would be willing to give up their seats on this flight we would accommodate with a first class seat on another flight and 100 Canadian dollars. My friend said, “We should ask if we can just get a direct flight back home. We don’t need to be on this flight.” We went to the woman at the desk and asked if there were any direct flights to SFO leaving that day. She took a couple of minutes to look it up and confirmed there was. When she told us the time and we did some quick mental math we realized that we would still get to SFO around in same time we would if we took two flights to get there. Not quite understanding how that worked (figuring out time zone when you are already jet –lagged. Not happening!) we accepted the offer.
We were lead to a separate area to get our 100 Canadian dollars (woohoo!). We were informed since now we were flying first class we could enjoy the Canadian airlines first class lounge. I didn’t even know that was a thing for first class flyers but apparently it is. While resting in the lounge I took advantage of the FREE FOOD and INTERNET! As someone who is alwyas traveling on a strict budget I can’t stress how important taking advantage of free anything is. I ate more than I really needed to but I needed to seize the moment.

Once on the plane we were immediately given drinks of or choice (even alcoholic if we so choose) before the flight even took off. I told the flight attendant this was our first time flying first class so it was a little strange how nice they were being towards us. After we took off the attendant came over to us with a bowl of hot towels. I didn’t even think that was a real thing! We took one towel each and patted our faces down in the way I assume frequent first class flyres would do. It didn’t serve any purpose. Making my face temporally hot and wet did not enhance my flight experience at all but dammit if I didn’t milk every moment of it. Then the food came. I am not talking about plane food, which I think most of us are comfortable saying there is no real food in plane food. This was served on actual plates and looked like effort was put into it! It was a chicken something and was actually quite good and a pretty big helping as well. After eating I got ready to put a movie on and try to sleep in my bigger than normal first class seat. Then I saw another cart headed towards me..with a gigantic cookie! They bring up the cart to us and before they say anything I exclaimed, “We get dessert too??!! Is that a cookie?!”. She laughs and said, “We are serving a warm cookie with cream.” I was reaching for it before she got to the cream part but it was a great addition to the cookie.

So the flight was quite great. I wondered why I don’t fly first class more often. As soon as I got home I looked at the general price associated with upgrading to first class and decided, well that was a nice onetime thing. This was my first lesson in airport Karma. We dealt with the frustrating process of customs and being suspected of smuggling drugs. But were rewarded in first class..and most importantly, free gigantic cookie and 100 Canadian dollars!

(Note: I didn't have any pictures from this particular event because I was too tired to take any. So I am using a humorous pic of me looking bigger than the Colosseum.I think it has a karmic feel to it.)

Customs: Where even the most calm and collected person will be tempted to flip their sh*t.

One unavoidable aspect of traveling is going through customs security. Most of the time it is a simple but annoying process. Then there are those times that customs and security are so mind-boggling frustrating that I am tempted to say, “ Can I see what’s in YOUR bag”, or “I just went through security, what could you possibly find that team didn’t 5 minutes ago?”. I also have a fantasy of throwing my belongings at the airport security and yelling, “I don’t need to take this, Jaz out!” I understand that these people are just doing their jobs. However airports and train station security have given me experiences that I will remember for a life time. I give you the ongoing series: Customs.

Canada edition: Yeah, Canada.
After a wonderful trip to Italy my friend and I were regretfully flying back to the states and our normal lives. We had two stops in Canada before flying back to San Francisco and our first stop was Montreal International. Since we already gone through security in Rome and were riding the same airline we only needed to go through customs/passport control to fly back into the states. We decided only to bring carry ons for the trip. Most airlines allow one carry on for the overheads and one to place under your seat at 22 pounds each (so basically two items). After getting off our flight we walked to passport control and presented our passports to the officer. He told us since it was now a domestic flight we would need to re-check any luggage we had (not true, but it didn’t matter). I told him we didn’t have anything checked in and only had carry ons. He stopped what he was doing and said “Two women, and you don’t have any checked luggage?”. I ignored the sexist part of that statement and replied, “No, it’s easier without it”. He says again, “But, Two women..”. I kindly replied, “Well people back pack through Europe all the time so it’s not that crazy”. He looked at us skeptically and instructed where to walk after we had gotten our stamps. We followed his directions and found ourselves at a security line. I was confused since we already went through this in Rome. Since we weren’t leaving airport grounds we should not have to go through a check twice. The guard looked at us and directed us to take off our shoes and brings our bags up. He told the employees we were sent from the passport control line. The woman from behind the scanner (who never smiled) came up to us and said, “We need to open your bags”. We of course said OK and they began to search. This woman proceeded to use some sort of scanner on everything she touched and asked me what each item was. Even though she was clearly holding a shoe she would ask me what it was. About half way through this I started to connect the dots. The man at passport control perked up when we said we didn’t need to check any bags. The people in the security line knew we were coming. One employee during the check was smiling at our clear confusion. It dawned on me that we didn’t look our best either. We had our sweats on, hair in messy ponytails and no makeup. I didn’t think we looked THAT suspicious though.
I looked at my friend and whispered “I think they are searching our bags for drugs”. She looked at me and said, “Yep”. I was tempted to ask the lady if there was a problem but talking to her didn’t seem like the best idea. I also wanted to point out that there wasn’t a drug in Rome that I couldn’t possibly get in San Francisco, and of better quality. (Please note, I do not use or endorse drug use. I am merely stating a fact). After we were deemed not to be drug lords we were allowed to catch our flight. An awesome chain of events followed this that included us ending up getting first class but I will save that for the next entry.
Tip for traveling: I recommend using the two carry on strategy for two weeks or shorter trips. You don’t really need a whole bunch of clothes and it’s OK if you wear repeats. You won’t be seeing the same people day after day anyway. This also saves the hassle of checking in luggage and picking it up. Of course you might be suspected of smuggling drugs overseas but whatever. It will make for a good story.

Israel: Dead Sea-Does anybody else feel that?

The Middle East understandably intimidates some travelers. The headlines that come from the region are not usually positive and the uncertainty of what will happen on a day to day basis is frightening. However if conditions are safe and you have done your homework, I recommend going to Israel. There is truly nowhere like it. You can appreciate the landmarks from a historic or religious point of view. Walking through the dessert is like walking through a painting and is simply stunning. And the food rocks!
I went to Israel in 2008 with a big group of students. For many it was the first time in the Middle East. It was actually my first time out of the USA. While I was looking forward to everything, I was really looking forward to visiting the Dead Sea. One of the most do’s in Israel is visiting the Dead Sea. First off, it’s absolutely gorgeous in the crystal blue kind of way. It’s in a great location where you can see mountains from different countries. Also mud does wonders for your skin. It is the lowest elevation on the Earth's surface and is 33.7% (ish) salt. To give that perspective, The Atlantic and Pacific bodies of water are about 3.5%(ish). Needless to say, not much lives in the Dead Sea (the name kind of gives that away). To be honest when we were being told this information I wasn’t really paying attention to detail. All I could think of was it was hot and I wanted to go into the water. This would become my first lesson in listening to what the local tour guide tells you. It is most likely important.
After an incredibly long hike on Mt. Masada (also a must do) we arrived at the sea. We lathered up in mud (It’s free!) and started to head in. We were traveling with Israeli soldiers at the time who were on leave and were around our age. I was trying to get one of the girls in and she declined saying she had done it once. I looked at her and said, “But it’s hot and it’s the dead freaking Sea! How could you not want to go in?” She looked at me for a second and stated “It’s over 30% salt”. I being so naive simply stated, “So? It’s water!” She still declined and I said “See you in hour.” She quietly replied, “I think I’ll see you in about 15 minutes”. Who was this crazy solider think she was? I love the ocean and I could spend all day in it. We go in and the water is perfect temperature. We quickly realize that against our will we are floating. Salt does that apparently. It was awesome! You just sit there and float with no effort. About 10 min in I started to feel something. I slight..burn in my..private regions. I assume it’s nothing; just a little water making its way though. I looked around at the girls I was with who had gone quiet. All with that same look on their face of trying to suppress pain. We all started saying things like, “This is so great. We are so lucky to be here”. But it started to not sound sincere. The burning started to intensify. It was a burn that I can’t even compare anything to, and it was coming from all ends now. Finally one of the girls stated, “Holy shit, this burns. I am getting out!”. All of us screamed, “Yes!” and started to run out. In all the craziness some water got into our eyes and mouths. Crashing onto the shore I started running blindly to may blanket. I was hunched over with my hands between my legs, past the point of caring what I looked like to everyone. One eye shut and basically crying with mouth hanging open. Somebody told me there is a fresh water shower nearby to wash off. I stumble over there trying to get clean. After who knows how long I feel slightly less violated and wobble over to my solider friend who is reading her book, not even looking at me. I sit down and sigh, “So, over 30% salt..That’s a lot.” She says, “Yes, the guide had warned you many times.”. I look at her with one eye because the other one is still too salty and sigh again, “Yep”.

The woes of being short: What did you just say to me? Installment #1: Vienna

I am a tiny woman. Standing proudly at 4’11 and being blessed with super metabolism I often pass for younger than my almost 25 years of age. Even though I am from America where the diversity in a person’s height, weight and color varies more than any other country I have been to, I stand out. I still hear,“Wow! You are so tiny!”.“How old are you? You are so tiny”. “Well you will get carded for years! You are so tiny!”. You get the point. While I have gotten used to these comments and accept that people are fascinated with what is smaller than them, I always manage to be struck speechless at the comments I get while traveling. This is one of many examples I will be sharing.

I was beyond ecstatic when I planned my first visit to Vienna with my girlfriend. It was my first trip outside of Czech Republic since moving there. Although I mostly loved living in the CR, I was ready to see somewhere else and I had heard amazing things about Vienna from the architecture to the food. We decided to take an extended weekend trip to see it for ourselves. Since we wanted to spend as much time as possible there, we booked a fairly early train ride. My friend and I couldn’t wait to get off the train, put our bags down and see the city. After a six hour ride we got off at the central station and decided to invest in a local transportation multi- day pass. I almost always recommend this to people staying in a big city for a day or more. Public transportation in most Western Europe is fairly easy and saves time as well as money. Since we wanted to make sure we got the best deal possible we went directly to a customer service rep to buy a ticket directly (also recommended). We said how many days we would be there and asked what the best choice was. He was very kind and told us the correct pass to get. Before confirming our purchase he looks at my friend and asked, “So you will get one adult pass for you and one for the child”. I paused for a minute confused. Then I realized he was pointing at me! I was immobilized and speechless! My friend was at a loss for words as well. After what felt like a minute but was most likely 5 seconds I gather myself together and state with all the dignity and class I can muster, “I am not a child”. The man looks at me with an unapologetic face and says, “OK, two adult tickets then”. I can feel my friend holding in her laughter more than I hear or see it.
I have been called many things regarding my height, but never an actual child. It would be the first of many situations abroad where I find myself convincing people I am an adult.

Chocolate Hopping in Brussels:

Sometimes you just need to indulge in the cliches of traveling. Having Pizza in Italy, (check) Guinness in Ireland, (check), ride a camel in the Middle East (check, although I only rode around in a circle, still counts). My theory is those activities are popular for a reason. One of these cliches I had to try was the combination of beer, chocolate and waffles in Brussels. These three “foods” are essential and simply can’t be missed. This is what the city does the best and Brussels gladly showcases it. It’s impossible to walk down the street in Brussels and not notice the smell of chocolate or see the ridicules extravagant looking waffles. Chocolate in Brussels is so unmatched that even the cheaper chocolate is mind boggling good. Even if you are not a chocolate freak you will find yourself walking towards the nearest shop and be tempted.
I also must point out that I am in love with chocolate. I wouldn’t use the word “obsessed”. I am not one of those people who will go to a chocolate fashion show and I declined to go the history of chocolate museum. Really, what’s the point if you can’t eat it? I ironically also have a dairy allergen and while it’s not life or death, it can get pretty serious if I don’t take the proper medicine before consuming any dairy.
So what’s the best way to get your chocolate fix in Brussels and be satisfied? I think I may have discovered the perfect plan. With so many options it was definitely overwhelming. It was easy just to go in the first shop and shout “I’ll take it!”. That is precisely what I did on my first night and it was amazing! I literally bought the first 4 truffles I could reach. The next day when my friend B and I found ourselves at the beginning of the chocolate store stretch, we were determined to make the right choices. I knew I wanted to buy some to actually take home for myself and family (more for myself, of course). We went into the first shop where chocolate was molded into any shape you could imagine. While taking my time admiring how long it must have took to make a chocolate porcupine (seriously!), one of the ladies from behind the counter offered me a sample. It was delicious of course and I thanked her. I looked at the price and grimaced. I really wanted to buy it but it was pricey and I wouldn’t be able to buy anymore for the day. My friend suggested we go the next store and could come back if we wanted. Again I was distracted by the shapes, colors and smells when I was approached by a store clerk with another sample, awesome! Then my wonderful friend came up with one of the best ideas ever; chocolate hopping. We found out that if you linger for a few minutes in each store, they give you sample. They don’t just give a sample right when you walk in. You need to work for it by showing a real interest. With this theory in mind we set off to hit the chocolate shops. It turned out to be a very successful mission. We lucked out at most of the shops and got to taste some of the best chocolate in the world for free! And at the end of the journey we both went back to our favorite shop and bought something. It was only fair to the Brussels economy.
We got back to the hotel to safely pack away our purchases.I was changing my clothes to get ready for the incoming rain Brussels is so found of and I heard my friend gasp, “Your stomach!”. I looked down and found blotches covering my entire front half. Did I mention I was allergic to dairy and need to take medicine? I don’t normally need to take any for a single sample size of chocolate. Although I didn’t take into account that when you have around 8-10 samples in a row that equals a whole lot of wonderful, tasty and deadly dairy. My friend said, “Jaz I think you over did it on the chocolate today”. I sighed, “Yeah, I guess”. A minute or two go by before she asked, “Well, are you having trouble breathing or anything?”. I replied, “No, not really. It doesn’t even itch that bad”. She smiled, “Good, let me know if that changes. Drinks?”. Chocolate hopping that leads to bar hopping, I call that a success indeed.

Getting locked outside of your own apartment In Prague: It can happen.

I don’t expect a lot in life to come easy. After the toilet-gate at my previous apartment In Prague I thought I was ready for anything the Czech Republic threw my way. I forgot there was one last problem it could actually throw at me, hindering my ability to get in my apartment!

Apartment number three was by far the best apartment I have lived in thus far. For starters it was MUCH bigger. It had an actual living room with couches and a TV that didn’t work. A book shelf with more devices that didn’t work. A stereo that my roommates didn’t think worked till I plugged it in an outlet and holy cow it worked! Full kitchen but the dish dryer didn’t work. A full bathroom with two mirrors and tub with shower rod. Funny story about that, there were no curtains and the tub backed up quite easily so you had to be quick. But I really liked that place! It was charming and felt like an actual home rather than a hotel room.
As I was in the process of moving in, my new roommates warned me of an escalating problem with the door. It had a tendency to lock and stay locked even when you tried to open it with the key. We found that when closing the door you would need to keep the key in until the door was completely shut. Then turn the key and slowly take it out. If you didn’t do this, you or the next person trying to get in would not be able to unlock the door and would need to pray someone was in the house to let you in. So we all agreed to be careful and mindful about shutting the door. It was bound to back fire.

One night my roommates decided to have a girls night out. We invited some girlfriends over for pre-drinks (saves money) before hitting the town. After consuming a decent amount of drinks before heading out we ended up at a dance club while running into more friends and became separated from each other which isn’t out of the ordinary. Several hours past midnight I decided I was done for the night. One, because I was tired and two because a group of Brazilian guys kept cornering me and were trying to make out with my neck. I went home with one of my roommates and a friend. As my roommate and I approached our door all we could think about was sleep. We get to the door, and it won’t open. I try again and nothing. I start repeating a mantra of, “no, no,no,no,no” over and over while trying again. My roommate suggests maybe our third roommate is here and asleep and forgot about the door so we text her. Nothing. We try again, nothing. Next logical step was banging on the door while shouting “Sarah!!!” over and over. Still nothing. It is clear we are not getting in our apartment tonight. And it’s 3am so all we care about is sleep. We call our friend who lives close by and ask if we can crash. We walk over while the reality of being locked out of our apartment sinks in. Our landlord won’t respond till Monday at the earliest. It was Saturday night (morning). All our medications and legal documents were in the apartment. It was also on the 4th floor so we couldn’t easily get in through the window. We get to our friends house with the look of defeat on our faces. She only had one bed so we squished onto to it. The last thing that was said was my roommate tiredly exclaiming, “All I can think about is ways to scale the wall to our window”.

I spent the whole night dreaming of different ways I could break into our apartment. One was climbing to one of our windows from the front of the building since they are never locked. Another was seeing if we could get into our neighbor's house so we could jump from their deck to ours even though it was covered in barbed wire. Another was simply breaking the damn door. Though this door was like a typical hotel door and had no door knob. I still reasoned any door can be broken. I am from the East Bay in California after all! We could find somebody with the screw driver and un-hinge it, kick it, key it, Anything!!
So we wake up after spending half the night sharing a bed meant for one person and what do you know; our roommate WAS in the house! She had completely passed out. She had a friend over who left during the night and not knowing the sacred door rules, slammed it. She felt very bad but I told her I would be more mad about the situation if a wasn’t so damn happy that we were not locked out.
After this incident I always took great care in closing the door. I also took a deep breath every time I had to open it to get in wondering, “Will this be the time I get royally screwed?”