52nd City

If The Key Fits

On Arsenal, just a few steps away from what was formerly Alibi's (and prior to that, the Bavarian Inn) there's an unassuming little lock shop, US Lock. I've driven past it lots of times and didn't even register it mentally. My friend the Union sheet metal worker has all of his keys made there - he says it's the only place that doesn't mess them up. I know when I've had to make a key after 5 (or, I'll admit it, when I was lazy or busy) and defaulted to the big-box places, more often than not I took it back because it just didn't work. And it took FOREVER. And standing at the desolate little key station at Home Depot, with people running to and fro carrying buckets of paint or doorknobs or lumber ... ugh.

Like the fishing shop across the street from what was formerly known as Frederick's Music Lounge, US Lock is a little world unto itself. The lady behind the counter made TWO keys in - no hyperbole here - less than 30 seconds. I was hoping it would take a little more time than that, because the place had me awash in nostalgia and I wanted to stay and soak it up. They still use big army-green metal filing cabinets, and there were wire baskets with paper stacked up inside on top; a crosstitch sampler of the locksmith's credo hung above the counter; a pink melamine phone on the display case; they even had the little plastic teardrop-shaped keychains with horoscope signs on them for sale. And there were boxes and boxes of keys, along the back wall. The emotional impact of watching this tiny lady make a key in the time it takes me to sneeze, plus the peculiar feeling of suddenly being thrown into this world of dusty boxes of keys and strangely calibrated machines turned what could have been an onerous chore into a tiny adventure. And the key - both keys - work like butter.