A German Key

The German word for “the key” is der Schlüssel. You may think you can say it, but I’m pretty sure you can’t.

I’ve spent a small, yet considerably ridiculous amount of time in my life simply attempting the correct pronunciation. One afternoon at church, I literally sat a table with my German friends and spent fifteen solid minutes looking like an idiot. For the life of me, I cannot say der Schlüssel.

Anyways, this past Saturday I was doing some cleaning in my basement storage. But, the moment I shut my apartment door to head downstairs, I realized my plans had changed.

I had locked myself out.

I was wearing slippers and had my phone; I did not have meine Schlüssel. Resources were limited, but I felt hopeful I could escape this dilemma with my dignity intact.

I was wrong.

I brainstormed some commando-Rambo options, but settled for calling my landlord who doesn’t speak English. After calling several times with no answer, I found the courage to leave a voicemail in German. It wasn’t pretty because I only know about 50 words in German and my confidence in saying one important one, der Schlüssel, is pretty abysmal. I stuttered, said about nine variations of der Schlüssel, hung up, and hoped for the best.

An hour later, nothing had happened and I was getting hungry and needed to pee. It was time for Mission: Be A Fool. I heard my neighbor shuffling about and intercepted him on his walk to the car.

Hand gestures ensued and I followed him to his apartment like a depressed dog thinking, ‘WHY CAN’T I SPEAK THIS LANGUAGE?!’ He tried calling my landlord to explain the situation, but got the voicemail too. Running out of options and bladder space, I began miming my desire to find a ladder and climb the 30 feet to my balcony.

The neighbor shot a confused glance, and so I mimed with even more gusto. A few minutes later I was climbing up the side of my apartment complex with a few of my neighbors standing on their balconies to investigate. They shouted encouragement, or questions, or curses (I couldn’t tell), and I smiled and tried in vain to say, "I don’t have der freaking Schlüssel.”

I hopped over my railing, raised my hands and exclaimed loudly, in English, “VICTORY!”

I was back in my apartment, key/Schlüssel firmly in hand, and ready to take on another day in Germany.