As we were prepping for our trip to Cozumel, I started to feel a bit like Jason Bourne. In my money-belt, I had two different passports and a whole wad of cash. I even stashed another wad of cash in a separate carry-on item, in a safe but unexpected place. Thrilling!
Granted, the passports were my daughter’s and mine, and the cash was an assortment of American dollars in small denominations so that we didn’t need to get or change money for Pesos while we were down there. It looked like a lot more money than it was.
Still, it felt oddly exciting.
The people who rented us the condo gave us a wealth of information via email before our trip. One question we’d had was if there was a safe in the unit. There was, but it was relatively small…just big enough for passports and cash, and small valuables.
iPerfecto!
Ever since our wonderful child locked us out of our own safe in a hotel room in San Francisco (with all of our treasures safely INSIDE IT, with a code only SHE knew and oddly enough, wasn’t able to replicate…), my husband and I are a bit jumpy around hotel safes. In San Francisco, we got to meet the nice gentlemen of the Security Department. They were summoned and quickly arrived in their crisp suits, with their magical handheld safe-cracking devices and curley-que ear-pieces.
Editor’s note: No children were harmed in that situation, but a huge impression was made, and Claire knows to steer clear of hotel safes.
In Cozumel, I was glad to hear there was going to be a safe at all, but this was going to be different. There was a person who might be able to help us if the safe got locked accidentally, but it would be difficult to reach that person quickly (and the email implied “if at all.”). Best bet? Please leave the safe open when you leave, and please, please, please be careful with it.
When we arrived at the condo, and we finished ooohing and ahhhing, I decided to check out the safe.
It was locked. Shut. Not open. As in, exactly what the email had said NOT to do.
iPerfecto!
Rather than panic, I switched into Jason Bourne mode. I hadn’t traveled for hours with more than one passport strapped to my body for nothing. What would he do? “Let’s see if we can figure this out,” I said. “Let’s try this before we try to reach someone.”
I punched in the security code we’d been given for the front door, hoping someone wouldn’t be so silly as to use the same code twice, all the while mentally crossing my fingers that they had been stupid enough to do just that.
It didn’t work. (I was actually relieved. I mean, that would not be very secure at all!)
Then, a random code popped into my head. It was way too simple. Would someone be stupid enough to use this code?
THEY WERE.
IT WORKED!!
I’d cracked the safe!
We were extremely excited, despite the fact that we didn’t find any unmarked bills waiting behind the locked door.
We immediately changed the code to something we could all remember and held the safe with utmost respect for the entire week. It may be too soon to put “Safe-Cracker” on my official resume, but I was pretty proud of myself.
Jason Bourne would’ve been impressed.
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