Toilet Humour

I got stuck in a toilet cubicle this morning.  Properly locked in.  I had a wee, washed and dried my hands, reached for the lock and IT FELL OFF IN MY HAND.  The whole thing.  I tried to fix it back on but only succeeded in pushing the pin completely inside.

It was at a toddler group held in a church hall; I could hear them all in the main room, laughing and talking in voices muffled by two doors, completely oblivious to my plight and mounting panic.  I took a few deep breaths and tried to stay calm at the thought of everyone leaving without me and being stuck in there until Mass on Sunday.

Unwelcome thoughts started flitting frantically through my mind.  My young child is out there with my friend (breathe…breathe…breathe).  He’ll be worrying about me (breathe…breathe…breathe).  No doubt crying inconsolably (breathe…breathe…breathe).  My friend will probably think I’ve collapsed, banged my head on the sink and am now lying unconscious on the floor.

She’ll notice I’m missing in a minute.  Any time now… Yep, she’ll be coming for me any second… Any…moment…now.

Then I feel a rush of relief.  Of course!  I’ve watched NCIS Los Angeles, I KNOW HOW TO PICK A LOCK!  I’ve watched Kenzi do it practically every week.  It’ll be easy peasy.  I may not have my credit card with me as it’s in my bag but I can TOTALLY think outside the box when I need to.

A sharp implement.  I need to find a sharp implement, shape it into a rudimentary key and simply release the mechanism of the lock.  Why am I panicking?

I search my surroundings, looking for the handy wire coat hanger that, in the films, is always conveniently lying around.

Hmm.  Hand soap and dispenser, a towel, some nappy bags and in the cupboard: spare loo rolls, rubber gloves and toilet cleaner.  Not REALLY anything that screams of a potential method of escape.  Think, think, think.  I check the toilet cleaner.  Damn it.  Bleach free.  I can’t even burn my way out.

So, with a face hot with embarrassment and my dignity in tatters, I do the only thing I can do…I bang on the door and shout for help.  The shame.

I know, laugh it up, folks…everyone at the toddler group did when they eventually got me out(after several minutes of knocking).

I needn’t have worried.  My toddler hadn’t even noticed I was missing and was playing with a toy garage.  My friend was drinking her brew and chatting to one of the other mums.

Everybody CLAIMED not to realise I’d been gone for a suspiciously long time.

Yeah right.

They also CLAIMED they got me out AS SOON as they heard my cries for help.

Course they did 🙂