Thursday night adventure

Michael and I had a fun adventure Thursday night. I'll start the story from my perspective and then fill in Michael's side. At work, I teach a parent language program (for parents of children who are late to talk) with another SLP (Speech Language Pathologist). We usually run the program during the day, but because it's hard for some parents who work to come, we are running an evening session this time. The session ended at 8:30pm. Michael was at home studying and cleaning the house (my parents were coming the next day for a visit), and said that he would pick me up from the hospital at 9pm. It took me longer to clean up after the program than usual, but at 9:10pm, I finally walked through the front doors, worried that Michael would be upset that I was late. I looked around the small parking lot...No Michael. It's not like him to be late, I thought; I'll just wait a few minutes. It was 9:15pm; I decided to go back to my office to call him. Well, unfortunately, the doors to the hospital lock at 9pm. I was locked out. It was dark. I saw a silver car pull up, but it wasn't Michael. Did he forget me? I decided to try and get back into the hospital through the emergency exit. Just as I was turning around, a figure on a bicycle approached through the darkness. I recognized the plaid shorts and the Kentucky hoodie then realized that it was Michael. Why was he on a bike? Why was he late? Where's the car? How are we getting home? Before I had time to pose these questions, Michael said, "Promise me you won't be mad". Oh great I thought, he's totaled our car. He explained that he had been cleaning the house and was taking a couple of bags out to the dumpster, when he realized the door was locked and his keys were in the house. Now, this is more funny when you know that this isn't the first time Michael has locked himself out of things. Usually it's the car. Several times we've had to call a tow-truck company to unlock the doors. Anyway, it was 8:50pm at the time. Michael, unable to contact me by phone (it was in the house with his keys), and unable to drive, rode his bike 3.8 miles through the ghetto, through downtown, and across the river to reach me. He rode as fast as he could, not even stopping to pull up his pants. This was probably for the best as he does not have reflectors on his bike; his white bottom made him visible to approaching cars. He was very sweaty when he rode up - despite wearing shorts and sandals - and said he could taste blood in his mouth. How could I be mad at my wonderful hubby who rode so fast and so far to make sure that I wasn't marooned at the hospital. We took the bus home together. It turned out to be a fun little date. Moral of the story, when with Michael, always carry a spare set of keys.