entschuldigung - excuse me

the sound of the the loosely jiggling doors drowned out the creaking cables of the ancient elevator as i rode to the fourth floor. this is where the superintendent of our building lives. impromptu visits to neighbors are uncommon in germany, but earlier in the day he had stopped by my apartment and dropped off a package so i figured it would be okay.

his visit reminded me that i needed to speak with him but he ran off before i could get the words out in german. i took note of this and had formulated succinct german phrases in my head that i would use to convey my needs. the phone was not going to do, since i can only understand german when i see the person speaking it. i was a little nervous to be appearing without advance warning, but i had to talk to him before the workmen came on friday to fix our dying doorbell system.

at 3pm i stepped out of the elevator to see that his keys were in his door. i took that as a sign that he was home and decided to ring the bell. what sounded like a sick cat came from the bell and i understood why the workmen were coming. i giggled. i heard footsteps.

a muffled "moment!" came from behind the door where i could see his eye through the peephole. he must be busy with work, i thought. his keys are in the door, i hear shuffling around in there. it's a bad time. i should go.

but i couldn't go, i had rung the bell already. he would be expecting me on the other side of the door. so i waited a minute or so.

finally the door swung open and there stood our super, flushed and in his bathrobe.

"entschuldigung!" i said without even thinking about german versus english. i turned to go but he was saying something in german.

"i already brought you your package this morning!" he growled.

"yes, danke, i appreciate it." i managed to reply. i stared at his bare feet.

"okay, bye." he said and whirled around. crap. just ask him and get it over with, i told myself. you can't risk another incident like this.

"uh, i have a question about friday," i said in english. "i won't be here when the workers come. where do i leave my key and when?" i figured i should leave it in his post box on friday morning but things don't always work like i think they should in germany so i had to check. i wanted to explain all of this but he looked like he was having trouble understanding what i had already said.

"friday, you leave, workers come, i don't know when, key in box." he peered up at me through his squinting eyes and ruffled hair.

i couldn't help but look behind him where a woman sat fully clothed at a desk, papers in front of her, computer on. a box of oil pastels lay open on the desk. the apartment was flooded with light, all the windows were open. she was writing checks.

"okay, thank you." i said and turned again. but he leaned against the door frame and started to explain, in germglish, why the workmen were coming, what company they were from, exactly who's bells weren't working, and the logistics of setting up the appointment. for such a curt little man he had a lot to talk about all of a sudden.

i nodded, smiled, looked from the floor to his feet, to my feet, to the door frame. "okay, okay, ja, okay, danke, okay..." i heard myself saying.

finally he waved and turned to close the door. i ran down the stairs to my apartment - his keys jingling as he removed them from the lock.

back in my apartment i sat on the couch and turned on the TV but the images from the fourth floor were there to stay. what could i have interrupted at 3 in the afternoon? his hair was dry so he wasn't showering, and if he were napping, why didn't the woman answer the door? she was fully dressed and looked like she had been sitting at the desk for a while so they weren't doing it. and if they were, why answer the door? she looked like she was his secretary. she could have been sketching him i suppose...

what was going on in that apartment, i don't want to know. but the experience was enough to make me want to use the phone next time.