EPTSo I went into the bathroom to do my business, and as there might be other people in the house, I close the door all the way to ensure the least amount of accidental awkwardness, but what I assumed would be my shield from embarrassment turned into my coffin of shame.
I finished my business, washed up, dried my hands, and walked towards the door. When I grabbed the handle and turned, my heart sank into my stomach. Not only did the door not open, but the handle spun rapidly in my hand and came out of the door. The wedge-shaped spring-loaded piece of metal (not familiar with the terminology) that keeps the door from opening from the outside, but allows it to close on the inside was still sitting in it's little nest, taunting me.
My McGuyver senses kicked in. I knew I wasn't going to be defeated by a handful of metal, so I reached for my credit card in my wallet. I had used tools similar to a credit card before on the old locks of my mother's house, specifically when I was locked out of my room by my sisters. I began trying to pry the Wedged-shaped sentinel from it's housing, but alas, my card was too bulky for task at hand. I needed something smaller.
I swiveled around and reached for the sink cabinet. I found what looked like the tool I needed. A pair of tweezers: Just small enough to fit where it needed to go, and with the function to pinch or grab! I was sure that I would be free from this water closet prison in no time.
I used the same technique I had used with the card. I attempted to push the wedged warden away from it's burrow and into the door long enough to swing the door open. I struggled, and finally, I gave up on the tool.
I started to think, my mind started racing. Should I scream for help? Could anyone help me, even if they came? Am I going to be late for work? These thoughts, and others of panic, flooded my mind as I remembered something of importance! There were drawers nestled under the sink with assorted makeshift utensils that I could utilize to facilitate my escape. I placed my failed tool on the counter for later use if I needed it and began rummaging through said drawers.
Hairbrushes, Electric razor fittings, toothbrushes that hadn't been used in ages, soaps, shampoos from hotels visited long ago, Q-tips, and other various baubles that I couldn't use to free myself. I searched through drawer after drawer, frantically delving into the depths of personal hygiene, until I found it. I smiled in relief as I knew this tool would work wonders compared to the last two.
It was a pair of curved scissors, most likely used for cutting eyelashes or something equally as frivolous. I made my way back to my nemesis, and went back to the grind of trying to shove, cram, and pry my weapon into the villain that caged me.
Momentary success was squashed by crushing defeat as I just nearly separated the Wedge witch from it's hut. But this ornery bitch wasn't going to give up that easily.
Sweat was starting to pour down my brow. Panic had already set in, and I began wonder what time it was. There's a theory that I've heard of, wherein if you don't have a concept of time, then an instant could feel like an eternity. This case of bathroom isolation was no exception to this theory. what were most definitely minutes to the outside world felt like hours in my confined lavatory.
The thought occurred to me though, "I can't be found in here measly tools in hand, unable to gain victory over a simple contraption. I have to escape, and not let anyone know of my entrapment." I suddenly surged with confidence. My fingers gripped the curved scissors, as if they were an extension of my own arm. I focus on the situation at hand. The lock was rather bare in comparison to most locks of similar builds. It all seemed to easy now. I placed the scissors exactly where they needed to go, put the exact amount of pressure to release the wedge rascal from it's den. Finally, the door clicked open, and I swung it freely back and hurriedly collected my things and fled from the scene.
A feeling of relief and accomplishment washed over me as I walked back to my room, but a final thought on the subject made me realize I would have to tell someone of my awkward tale, if only to warn them of the dangers lurking in that bathroom. I searched around the house for anyone to tell, as a cautionary warning, but I found no one. Not a single person was there during my incarceration. If I couldn't get out, who knows how long I would have been locked up in there, seeing as no one could have come for help, even if I called for it.
Before I finish this blog, I impart upon you, members of TeamLiquid.net, the lesson I learned from this experience: Never take the simple things in life for granted, not even doorknobs.
