Viva Los Bomberos

Last night we came home to our new apartment at 8 with our newly purchased queen-sized mattress and 8 bags of stuff from the “hipermercado” which is like unto walmart the kind that have the grocery store. Except some stuff is way cheaper than walmart and some is way more expensive. Like towels, but that’s a rant for a different time. Anyway, after getting dropped off by the truck driver with our mattress we got out our keys to open the door and found… it wasn’t the right key. During the day the building is an office building with an electronics store on the bottom floor, so we haven’t ever tried that key (just the 6 others required to get past all the doors to our apartment) Panic quickly set in, as darkness, a lot of stuff, and no home were upon us. The people renting to us are really just a real estate company, so we had no numbers other than their office, which of course didn’t work. Just as I started to call the Roseros to rescue us a young guy showed up with his keys and despite how crazy I sounded he let us in. After I got in the elevator with all the bags, he then helped Aaron haul the mattress up 8 stories on windey stairs. Aaron tried to pay him but he just ran off and we can’t find him again, but if we figure out which apartment is his, he’s getting some cookies.

So we were in the building, but then realized we were perhaps trapped in the building until Monday when the stores and offices reopen. This morning Aaron went down to check to see if we would be able to escape to church but no luck. We kept getting ready anyway, and when it was time to go, we went downstairs and the doors were open. We talked with the guard and he sold us a copy of the key for $.50 so now we can come and go as we please, and I am eager to have words with the rental people tomorrow.

Aaron told me last week when he went to home teach the Bishop that he needed to call a Young Mens and Young Womens presidents. Guess what callings we got today? When we were leaving church today I asked Aaron if he was scared (none of the two young men speak english) and he said no. I was glad. Then he said “I’m terrified”. I also only have two young women, one of them being Sammy Rosero. I’m mostly just excited. (This story was not meant to imply any sort of bad luck, it just happened today so it needed telling)

And the final story: We came home from church and rode up the the 7th floor in the elevator (we live on the 8th, but the elevator only goes to the 7th, well, sort of…) and we get up to the top and we realize the elevator is about a foot higher than the door. And this is an ancient ecuadorian elevator with no alarm button, no phone, and the door will only unlock to open when the elevator is perfectly lined up with the door. We press buttons. We let it rest. We press more buttons. Aaron jumps. Aaron tries to unscrew the metal panel on the door to get to the lock mechanism with a dime. He laments not having his knife he normally carries around. I call Roseros. They can’t believe it. They try hard to figure out who is the building owner, or at least someone who lives in the building. No luck. Its decided its time to call the Bomberos, who often can be found dressed in red cammo, which Aaron points out must be to blend in better with the fire.

I forgot to point out that when I was on the phone with Roseros, Ismael (7) gets on the phone and says “Kelsey! Can you breathe?” “Yes, there is plenty of air” “How do you feel???” “Well, a little bit scared, but mostly I need to go to the bathroom and I’m really hungry” “Hahahahah”

I talk to the Bomberos and tell them our issue and they tell me to not worry they are coming. Then 911 operator guy calls me back and asks all the same questions and says don’t worry he will send someone. He calls back a couple more times with questions, how are they supposed to get in those pesky glass doors that are now locked because the store is closed? I don’t know, bust them in? A lady who lives in the building showed up and let them in, because eventually we hear an alarm, a women’s voice, and some men’s voices. The Bomberos were in the building.

They check every floor, knocking on the door yelling “can you hear me?” I keep yelling back “yes! we are on the 7th floor!” They only hear me when they get to the 6th floor, then they yell at each other and come running up. They ask again how many people are in there, and if we are ok. They mess with the door but we can tell they really just want to bust in the frosted glass part of the door. I try to tell them what’s up with the elevator, and they tell me “be calm, we will get you out” Pretty sure they couldn’t hear us laughing the whole time. After all, it had only been 45 minutes. They get some tools from the lady and open the lock and ta-da we are rescued!!! Our rescuers are a guy in his full fire-fighting outfit, another bombero in shorts and a bombero t-shirt, and a police officer. We thanked them kindly and escorted them downstairs to their waiting firetruck and police car, we locked the door after them, because after all, we now had the key.

(Rodrigo has proposed that the newspaper article will be titled: Dos Puerquenos trapped in an elevator. I’ll tell you what a puerqueno is later.)