When I firmly closed the tiny hinge on the bathroom door, I slid the lock shut for life. I immediately knew that I was in trouble. Carefully wrapping my fingers around it, I push and shoved back and forth. The door rattled. Nothing more. Nothing less.
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 on high alert status. I did use the facilities — that was the reason I needed the ladies'room in the first place — hoping that my problem would be washed away.
Sitting on the toilet I laughed to myself. 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 her?
Even my husband had wandered around upstairs, but I sensed that he had gone downstairs bored with women’s apparel.
I heard no voices. I had the place to myself.
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 someone 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 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 little moments.