Several nights ago, I wronged the good people at the Hartley Hospitality Desk. This is my confession and plea for forgiveness.

It all began when I locked myself out (as I am wont to do, even after all my time here), having remembered literally everything but my ID. So, frustrated with my absent-mindedness, I trudged over to Hartley in the cold to get a temporary key. Clever as I am, I asked the guy manning the desk for extra time on the card, so I could just return it the next morning instead of having to make a second (drunken) trip to Hartley later in the evening- “efficient planning!”, I foolishly thought to myself. “This way I won’t need to make as many trips.” Oh, how wrong I was.

Card in hand, I proceeded out into what I assumed would be a peaceful and pleasant evening.

Some time later, as I was returning home, I reached into my pocket and realized I was missing something- the temporary key. I made an attempt to retrace my steps, eventually getting cold, ducking into Duane Reade, and giving up: I would have to return to Hartley and, shamefully, ask for a second key.

This I did, making up some dumb lie that someone had stolen my wallet or something. The people at the desk stared at me like I was the dumbest little freak alive (as they should have), but politely did not challenge my story and simply gave me another key. I then went back to my room, retrieved my ID, and went back to Hartley yet again to return my (second) temporary key, avoiding eye contact and hustling out as I did so.

In conclusion: I’m sorry, Hartley desk people. You aren’t deserving of canonization, since the next morning I did get an email telling me I’d get fined $25 if I didn’t find the first key, but you should definitely be beatified for putting up with forgetful assholes like me.

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