When I closed the tiny hinge on the bathroom door, I immediately knew that I was in trouble. You see I was in a tiny bathroom on the second floor of a gift shop way to the far corner out of the normal traffic flow.
My senses went to a high alert status. I did use the facilities-that was the whole purpose of the visit, and washed my hands avoiding the obvious. Hopefully everything wasn't as it seemed, and I would re-enter the area with the flick of the lock.
I really had slid that lock shut for life apparently. Carefully wrapping my fingers around it I pushed and shoved back and forth. The door rattled a bit.
“OK, Kay,” I said to myself. “Take some deep breaths and relax.”
I laughed to myself, though, because just minutes before an extremely attentive salesperson had asked me at least three times if I needed help with selections. She would circle the entire upstairs and keep coming back to me. Now where was she when I needed help?
Even my husband had wandered around upstairs, but I sensed that he had gone downstairs by then bored with women’s apparel.
I kept at the lock, but it was not budging. All sorts of bizarre thoughts entered my head. Since it was a full door I couldn’t scoot underneath. The worse case scenario would be taking off the door by its hinges and freeing me. Oh, that would be so embarrassing, and definitely a least resort.
My brow started to perspire.
I took a bunch of paper towels and wrapped them over my fingers getting ready for a final thrust.
One. Two. Three. Contact. The door came flying open with a mighty surge.
The salesperson was not there to witness my entrance back into society, nor were any other customers. I confidently walked out and down the stairs to where my husband was waiting on the sidewalk.
“I was wondering what took you so long.”
I decided to keep this little adventure to myself for the moment. Perhaps I was saving it for an essay on life’s moments.
After all, it worked out in the end, and I learned a lesson about locking a door when I could have easily not.