Again with Pop and the flights of stairs

So many stairs, so little time.

In case you didn't read this earlier blog post, my father is obsessed with his "flights of stairs climbed" goal on this Garmin watch. Further, as mentioned yesterday, we were in the city with him and mom.

When Tom and I got up on Saturday morning, my parents, both of them, were sitting innocently on the sofa in our apartment looking like they'd been there for awhile.

Turns out, not so much.

Pop had rather recently returned. As we took the elevator downstairs to go out for breakfast, Pop admitted that he'd been out earlier. He had taken the elevator down to the first floor and then went into the garbage room where, the day before, he had spied the door to the stairwell. He had noticed this door when he'd trailed Tom into the garbage room while Tom recycled a box.

He's a crafty one, my Pop.

Anyway, apparently the stairwell door in the garbage room was locked. So Pop went back out and got back into the elevator. He took it up to the second floor and found the stairwell door, which was mercifully unlocked. From there, Pop clambered up all 19 flights of stairs to the top floor. After momentarily eavesdropping on some guy in the penthouse speaking very loudly in a Latvian accent,  he boarded the elevator for the return trip to our apartment. Where he waited patiently for Tom and I to get up.

Pop finished his confession as we walked out past the doorman. 

I pointed out the other stairwell across the lobby which is not locked. The doorman chimed in that Dad looked pretty spry zipping around that morning. The doorman said he watched the whole affair on the overhead cameras. 

The doorman was too polite to ask what the hell Pop was up to, but we told him anyway.