40 Thieves

Today I went to a great German restaurant for dinner. The place was
packed with Germans and Ethiopians alike, all drinking blonde and ebony
beer brewed on the premises. The food was beyond excellent--we tried the
bratwurst and jaeger schnitzel. One of our other coworkers was coming
back to Addis Ababa after being out in the field and maybe going to join
us, but he called and said he was going to just grab a quick dinner
somewhere and go straight back to the guest house since he was beat.
Later, we walked back to Chez Glo and knocked on the first floor suite.
He had the last vacant room and it was probably three times larger than
the rest, but we all laughed that the television screen was still only
13 inches.
After a few minutes we went to grab something from the kitchen and then
everyone said goodnight. But as I started up the stairs I heard my
colleague rattle the door knob to his suite and mutter something in
Japanese. I stopped and turned around, "Did you lock yourself out?" I
asked him. The manager told us there was only one key for this room and
he clamored onto the first floor balcony, trying to open the shutters
that were pulled down over the sliding glass doors, but everything was
locked up tight. I wandered back in and looked at the door again.
Maybe I've seen too many movies, but almost instinctively, I pulled out
my AmEx card and slipped it between the door and the doorframe. As if
Ali Baba himself had made the command, the door swung open effortlessly.
I turned around and everyone stood there, stunned, mouths agape. I could
do little but smile a little sheepishly until my coworker began to voice
concerns for his security. "Sleep tight, buddy!" I said and slapped my
coworker on the back before scooting up the stairs.