DId my own version of that. In my case, my husband was out of town, so I was alone. Came in from the nightly barn bedcheck, locking the front door behind me. Went to take out our old Shih Tzu for his final potty break of the night, exiting the house through the sliding patio door. The door latch broke as I shut it, dropping down inside the door (I could hear it do so), leaving the two of us locked out past 10:30 p.m. on a cold December night.
Phoneless, and inappropriately dressed for a night in my unheated tack room, the dog and I walked our semi-rural neighborhood until I saw a light on inside a home. Knocked on the door (would be kinda dangerous to do this nowadays), and a haggard-looking woman came to the front door. Turned out that she’d heard my knock because she was recovering from surgery, and couldn’t sleep. I felt terrible for disturbing her when she was obviously in pain.
She offered me the use of her phone; I called another neighbor who is a good friend, but has the kind of serious guard dogs where one doesn’t approach her house in the middle of the night (or anytime, really) sans an invitation. That person fortunately woke up, and answered her phone – a miracle, since she normally retires early and wouldn’t have her phone on. She invited us (the dog and I) to stay with her overnight, sleeping in the living room, so we walked to her house.
After this experience, I’m much more obsessive about having my phone on my person at all times I’m outside our home (even though I don’t like being dependent on it), I don’t shut the sliding door all the way when taking the dog out, and also generally leave the front door unlocked when I’m outdoors (I know that is generally not recommended).
I called the locksmith the following morning, using my neighbor’s phone. However, he was unable to defeat our highly secure front door lock. I figured out a possible solution to gain entry into my home, involving such elements as climbing a large tree, an extension ladder, and scaling a railing to gain access to a locked door that he would then possibly be able to pick. The locksmith, although youngish, was not in great physical condition, and I could tell that he was a little scared (perhaps a fear of heights), but he succeeded.
I think this qualifies as MacGyvering; I imagine he’s still telling this story.