A prisoner without cookies

Last night around 8, my landlord's daughter (my landlord's family lives upstairs) knocked on my door, saying 'Eid mubarak' (blessed festival), a greeting for the Muslim holiday Eid ul-Fitr (the day that marks the end of Ramadan) which is a public holiday here today. She wanted to offer me blessings as well as a plate of cookies that she was carrying.

I went to open my door for her. My apartment door has three locks: two padlocks that secure the barred metal door on the inside and then a lock for the glass-paneled door on the outside. I had gone running earlier in the evening and locked all three locks when I returned out of habit.  Trying to open the first padlock, the key didn't work, so I tried the second padlock key. Nothing. I opened the second padlock, went back to the first padlock, now knowing which key would open it. Still wouldn't open. We then tried to pass the cookies through the kitchen window that opens slightly, but with the security bars, it was impossible to get a plate of cookies through without turning the plate sideways and losing all the cookies to gravity. Back to the padlock. Didn't open. There I was, locked in my own apartment staring through metal security bars at a plate of delicious-looking cookies held by my landlord's daughter, who generously wanted me to share in her family's breaking of the fast of Ramadan.

This is my life.