“Hi. Miss Linda?...Hi, this is Tracey, Jonah’s mom…Fine, thank you, and you?...Um, yeah. I’m locked in your bathroom…Yeah, that’s right…Um, no, the door is unlocked, it just won’t open…Yeah, okay. I’ll wait right here.”
It started out like a normal day, except better. I woke up on time and not tired. I got a hot shower, I made a hot breakfast, and the kids and I were in the car, happy and ready to go at 7:30. Right on time.
Sam was dropped off without a screaming fit. Not entirely novel, but nice. Then, across town to drop off Jonah, with only a little surmountable drama because he forgot his school bag.
Next stop—the grocery store. But first, I thought I would use the school’s bathroom. It is huge and they keep their four person baby buggy in there which is a great place to strap Cate down. Much better than the bathroom at the grocery store. What am I supposed to do? Let her crawl around? Ick.
As I went to leave, the door handle made a loud cracking noise, and the door would not open. The handle would turn, but not open the door. I knocked, I waited, finally I called.
Miss Linda arrived and asked politely, “Is the door locked?”
No, the door is not locked.
“I’ll get the key,” she said.
But, the door was not locked. She got the key. She tried the key. The key did not help. She went to get her credit card. (?)
By now, other people were coming by, and each one asked the same question. “Is the door locked?”
NO!!!! The door is NOT locked.
“I’m going to call the fire department.”
What!? Oh, please no. Not the fire department. What are they going to do? Use an ax? (While rolling their eyes in disbelief at the stupid women who called them.) Oh, no, No, NO! Not for nothing was I single for 35 years. I know things. I am handy. I knew I could figure a way out of that bathroom. And, I could imagine no greater humiliation than being
The door handle needed to be removed, but the screws were on my side of the door. I took out the only tool I had in my purse--a bottle opener/cork screw/knife only-big-enough-to-cut-cocktail-garnish combination Hubband makes me carry “in case of emergency.” No portion of it worked to unscrew the door handle.
“Do you have a very small screwdriver, like for eye glasses, or a letter opened that might fit under the door?” I ask.
I went through the storage cabinets in the bathroom looking for anything that might help me get the door handle off. Again, no luck.
Then, finally, someone with some sense arrived on the scene and started trying to get the bolts out of the hinges.
I was freed not long after. The whole ordeal was only about thirty minutes and, luckily, Cate was mellow throughout. What’s a little excitement before 9AM?
Who knew that getting locked in the bathroom at my son’s preschool (and barely avoiding a fire department rescue) would not be the most memorable thing about my day.
To be continued…