Up on the Roof

Dear Diary:

On a warm Saturday evening, I took a folding chair, a book and a glass of wine to the roof of my six-story Kips Bay walk-up while my dinner sat in the oven.

When it was time to check on my chicken 30 minutes later, I discovered that a new roof door that locked automatically had been installed. I was trapped on the roof with the daylight dwindling and my meal about to be ruined.

I called my super. No answer. I banged desperately on the door. No response.

Panicking, I called the only person I knew nearby: the wonderful woman who runs the laundromat next door. She was moments from closing for the night when she answered the phone.

After we had clumsily navigated a bit of a language barrier, she walked outside, caught my keys when I threw them down and disappeared into my building.