h2g2 The Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy: Earth Edition

So today I remembered one of the really funny things that happened while I was sorting through the mountain of stuff that was my late husband's.

He had this really heavy 1970s hard side briefcase. Always did. I had no idea what was in it, and it was locked. Six months after he died, my parents suggested that there may be important papers in it, and that I should take it to a locksmith to have it opened. I had been looking for the key for about two months at this point. So the next day, I took it to a locksmith. My father has done business at this shop since the late 1970s, so they know us. The gal behind the counter could not open it, and they would have to special order a blank if I wanted a key made for it. I could, however, leave the case for the locksmith to work on since she could not open it.

I left it with my name, address and phone number. I also left a note on it, explaining that there may even be a loaded handgun in it for all I knew. I wanted them to be cautious. My husband managed jewelry stores for a number of years including the era this briefcase was made. He carried at least one .44 revolver during that time. And the case was HEAVY. I did not want someone getting hurt in the process of opening the darn thing.

The next day, the locksmith called. Got it open, no problem. I was tired, so just said I'd be down in about ten minutes. I arrived, waited my turn, and asked how much I owed them. He told me. Then it occurred to me to ask if there was anything dangerous in there. The guy gave me an odd look and said no. He brought the case over. I re-iterated that my husband passed away and I had no idea what might be in there; and that I was glad it wasn't a loaded gun.

Now, I was thinking that I was glad it wasn't anything dangerous. I KNEW it couldn't be drugs, my husband just wasn't that kind of guy in any way, shape or form. I thought it might be his coin collection from when he was a kid, or something like that; if it wasn't important papers. But the look on this guy's face was really odd. So I asked, what WAS in it?

He seemed confused. This made me think it was something like paperwork from one of the many foreign places my husband lived in as an Air Force "brat." Like in a foreign language. Or some really old stuff passed down from the ancestors, and the guy wasn't sure what it was. Or more locked cases. Or rocks. Or the family Bible from the Gutenburg press, for all I knew--that made sense, since I almost NEVER saw him READ anything, he certainly wouldn't have occasion to open the case.

The locksmith turned the case toward me. Still looking, well, shaken. So I opened it. It was full of "magazines." The adult kind. I laughed, hard, for at least three minutes before it occurred to me that someone who worked there might have been offended by them. I made a sincere but ineffective effort to sober up, and stated that I hoped no one there had been upset by them.

I was standing in a very small shop, in grimy clothes and hot and sweaty. I had been working on the outside of the house that day. My hair was a mess, my clothes were dirty and I even had dirty spots just under my knees from kneeling while I worked. And I was laughing hysterically at something that might have upset or embarassed anyone else in my position. They probably thought I was off my rocker.

Imagine my relief when the guy started to smile and said "no, in fact we kind of enjoyed them." I answered that that was good, and that I never would have guessed that a case that nice and always locked had THAT in it. Because we NEVER had kids over, and he knew I would not have objected. It just seemed silly. REALLY silly.

Turns out, the guy that owns the building was there collecting rent. He runs an adult store. Said if I want to sell them, stop by.

I knew I'd be heading down to take some of my husband's things to my late husband's family in a month or so. I considered locking the case back up and putting it in with the other things. I could explain that I'd never seen what was in it, and that I thought it might be my his coin collection--but I couldn't find the key. Let his mother (who obviously thinks her son was perfect) take it to a locksmith to have it opened. But I didn't. Bwah ha ha ha ha ha. But I didn't.

Naturally, I found the key about a week later. I was clearing the many bookshelves in the family room. They were all packed full of movies, about 3000 of them, at least. Tucked in a small void and wrapped in a tissue were the key for the case and one that fit a two-drawer file cabinet; the file cabinet was full of "adult" movies. I thought it probably had our tax records. Silly me...

I could just picture my husband watching the locksmith shop and laughing, telling someone: "Look! She took it to a LOCKSMITH!!!"