I locked myself in my bathroom today. It's simple: I was curious to see if the locked worked, as I'd never tried using it.
It worked. Too well. It kept me locked in from the inside.
I stayed calm. For about 45 seconds. I scanned my tiny bathroom for some sort of tool. My search yielded a barrette. I fantasized that with one deft toggle I'd be free. 27 clumsy toggles later I was still trapped, and composed as a chimpanzee on crack.
Not only am I high strung, I am extremely claustrophobic. I can't even stand sleeping in a bed with the covers tucked in. I wanted out and I wanted out now.
For the first time in my life, a bathroom scale became my friend. I picked it up and smashed it into the door. Ah, victory. A small tear produced a window of light. Somewhere between ten to fifteen increasingly vigourous smashes later I had produced a large enough hole to climb through.
Of all the things I try to be grateful for, I will now have "Not being trapped in my bathroom" on my list.
I needed to get back to work, but stopped into the leasing office first to tell them what had happened. Let me start by saying that I am a perfect tenent. I pay my rent on time, if not early. I'm ridiculously quiet. I'm 47 years old and I wear a lot of pink and well...I don't exactly look like some party animal who goes around smashing in doors. The arrogant and condescending property manager (he had never bothered me thus far, but everyone in the building hates him) wasn't swayed by these facts. He's, um, (I'm whispering): he likes boys and kind of right out of central casting about it. When I told him what had happened, he gave me a special look and said "Do you think maaaaybe you overreacted? Couldn't you maaaaaybe have just kicked the door?" He made it very clear that he had superior breaking-out-of-bathroom skills and I did not. Ok then. For some reason I didn't get angry. I stated the facts, signed a work order and walked back to work.
When I came home four hours later the entire door had been smashed in. As in pieces of door and door splinters, but no actual door. Maybe tomorrow they'll put in a new door. Maybe they won't. All I can say is that I'm happy I'm sitting here at my desk, watching the shipping traffic on the Bay.
