Killers and toilets and pens, oh my!
So my boyfriend and I were in Yosemite last month for a romantic weekend of hiking/whining. Our first night there, he had fallen fast asleep and I was up late reading my newest trashy detective thriller. I get up to use the restroom one last time and notice that the door is closed. Peculiar, I think, as I continue to approach. I go to open the door, and it won't give. It's locked. FROM THE INSIDE.
Which could mean one of two things, I quickly realize: either a) somehow the door has swung closed on its own (it was next to the patio, whose door we had left open for some air) and gotten locked in the process, or b) a killer has climbed through our patio and locked himself in the bathroom, laying in wait until we're asleep. I figured the odds were 50/50. (And of course, though I hadn't really needed to use the restroom when I first got up, discovering the toilet is unavailable makes me really have to pee.)
I decide not to wake Florian because he has insomnia so falling asleep is a really big deal and, again, there's only a 50% chance a murderer is in our bathroom.
So my first brilliant thought is to unscrew a pen and use the cartridge as a faux key, wiggling it around inside the lock with the big hope of clicking something into place. That doesn't work. OH, and when I accidentally drop the pen and it rolls ever-so-slightly under the door, I reach for it and it's gone. Which makes me think that there probably is a psycopath in the bathroom, but still - now I'm determined so I try not to let my pending death slow me down. Fast foward through 20 minutes of various other tactics, and then I finally spy my spiral notebook. "Aha!" I say quietly to myself, making sure not to startle either boyfriend or killer. I unwind the metal spiral and attempt to use its now sharp end to click open the door's lock.
And it works!!! The next thing you know, I'm prancing around the room, gushing quietly, "I am so amazing. I am so f#$%&@ing amazing." And I mean it.
Isn't that a good story? Wasn't I really brave? Couldn't I be, like, a police detective or something in real life? 'Cause I'm pretty sure unlocking doors is really clutch in that profession.
So my boyfriend and I were in Yosemite last month for a romantic weekend of hiking/whining. Our first night there, he had fallen fast asleep and I was up late reading my newest trashy detective thriller. I get up to use the restroom one last time and notice that the door is closed. Peculiar, I think, as I continue to approach. I go to open the door, and it won't give. It's locked. FROM THE INSIDE.
Which could mean one of two things, I quickly realize: either a) somehow the door has swung closed on its own (it was next to the patio, whose door we had left open for some air) and gotten locked in the process, or b) a killer has climbed through our patio and locked himself in the bathroom, laying in wait until we're asleep. I figured the odds were 50/50. (And of course, though I hadn't really needed to use the restroom when I first got up, discovering the toilet is unavailable makes me really have to pee.)
I decide not to wake Florian because he has insomnia so falling asleep is a really big deal and, again, there's only a 50% chance a murderer is in our bathroom.
So my first brilliant thought is to unscrew a pen and use the cartridge as a faux key, wiggling it around inside the lock with the big hope of clicking something into place. That doesn't work. OH, and when I accidentally drop the pen and it rolls ever-so-slightly under the door, I reach for it and it's gone. Which makes me think that there probably is a psycopath in the bathroom, but still - now I'm determined so I try not to let my pending death slow me down. Fast foward through 20 minutes of various other tactics, and then I finally spy my spiral notebook. "Aha!" I say quietly to myself, making sure not to startle either boyfriend or killer. I unwind the metal spiral and attempt to use its now sharp end to click open the door's lock.
And it works!!! The next thing you know, I'm prancing around the room, gushing quietly, "I am so amazing. I am so f#$%&@ing amazing." And I mean it.
Isn't that a good story? Wasn't I really brave? Couldn't I be, like, a police detective or something in real life? 'Cause I'm pretty sure unlocking doors is really clutch in that profession.
posted by Amalia at 11:15 AM
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