Behind Closed Doors

Before last week, I would've thought it was strange for someone to take take their phone with them to the bathroom. I don't think that way anymore.

Allow me to explain...

The incident took place last Wednesday evening, at about 7pm. Normally another teacher and I would be teaching at that time, but due to a couple of nasty bugs, the last students (and teacher) who normally would've been there weren't. I decided to get some things done before heading home in my extra alone time at the academy.

I went to the restroom before beginning my evening clean up. It was at that point the doorknob broke with me inside.

Aaaahhh!

My mind started racing.

"Is this really happening?"
"How am I getting out of here?"
"Maybe my hands were too wet and I wasn't actually turning the knob completely."
[retries knob again]
"Crap"
"Maybe the lock is engaged"
[locks door, it's really locked..unlocks door, nothing]
"Crap"
"How long will I be stuck here?"

I did the math.

I had one hour before closing, I've been teaching until closing, so I've been getting home about 30 minutes later than usual and it's a 40 minute drive home.

That gave me roughly 2.5 hours before anyone would even know that something was wrong.
 
Short of putting my foot through the door, I tried everything I could think of to get myself out.

My first thought was to take the doorknob off and try to manually open the latch. There was one problem: I had no screwdriver.

There is a little side table in the bathroom that has a drawer. I took the knob off of the door to inspect the screw that held it in. "This should work," I thought. Using the upper edge of the screw, I attempted to unscrew the 2 screws holding the doorknob into place.

First screw was out in no time.

"Yes! I'll be out of here before boyfriend even knows to start worrying."

That second screw was another story. I have no idea how long I worked on that thing, but it wouldn't budge. My fingers started to ache from holding that little screw. When the pain got to the point that I couldn't hold onto it, I decided to move on.

Taking a little break to give my fingers a rest, I cleaned the floor and sat down to think about other ways to get myself out. "The hinges! Of course!"

There's a little gap under the door between the bathroom floor and the carpeting in the hall. My thought was to take the hinges off, stick my fingers under the door and try to pull the door open. I didn't care if I warped or broke any part of the knob or latch since it wasn't going to be around much longer anyway.

Took out the bottom hinge. It was much easier than I expected it to be. I forgot one very important factor: I'm short. Shorter than the average short person. Think of your average short person, they're about 5'2", right? Take 4 inches off of that....that's me.

All 4'10" of me looked up at that upper hinge and realized I could barely touch the bottom of the hinge with my heels on let alone the top. Here's where years of shelf climbing in grocery stores paid off. I grabbed that little table, turned it on it's side, and gently stepped up on it.

I was just high enough to reach that top hinge! I started pulling, but it wouldn't budge either. It's either rusted or painted or some other way permanently embedded into the housing.

The frustration started getting to me. I really didn't want boyfriend to go through the mental torture of uncertainty about why I didn't come home and why I wasn't answering any of my phones.

Back to the doorknob.

I pulled and shook and circled and twisted and yanked that thing every which way and as hard as I could.  At that point I didn't care what further damage I did.

It was on one of my last twists that I noticed the screw would move a little when I shifted the knob. "Oooo, quick grab the screw!"...My mind really does narrate itself in these situations...I put it into the other screw and just held it in place while I moved the doorknob back and forth.

Success!

The screw loosened itself enough that I could finish unscrewing it, I was going to be free! I took the knob off. The part that was on the inside was just the knob. I didn't really know it at the time, but this was good. It meant I could play around with the 'little stick part' (technical term) attached to the other knob.

For the record, I am not a technical, take things apart to know how they work just for the heck of it kind of person. There are some things I get curious about, but for the most part I don't give a hoot about most of it. It works? Great! It doesn't? Let's get someone to fix it...that someone being anyone else (usually boyfriend) but me. So looking at the inside of this doorknob was a totally new experience. Previously, all I knew about doorknobs was that you turn the handle from either side, the 'little pointy out thingy' (another technical term...I looked up the term latch and I still don't even know if it's the right term for that part) moves into the door and the door opens.

Now I know how doorknobs work! Unfortunately, I couldn't make this one work. After playing around with the 'little stick part' trying to get it to engage the 'little pointy out thingy' for a while, I let the other side of the knob fall out. I had instant regret the second it hit the floor, but there was no turning back.

I took the screw again and tried to play around with the parts inside the door. Nothing.

I stuck my fingers in there and moved things around, popped this plastic part up and down. Still nothing.

I had to face the facts. I was trapped.
 
Do you know what you would do if you had a few hours to kill while stuck in one place?

I do: I cleaned, and sang some songs in between my desperate attempts at escape.
 Boyfriend did eventually get to me at 10:40pm and he was much more panicked than I was, but he was also relieved that I was just stuck in the bathroom and not dead on the side of the road.

30 seconds.

That's how long it took boyfriend to get me out with a real screwdriver.

After a long hug, some slow deep breaths, and a brief discussion about what the heck happened, we closed up the academy and went home.

One thing that surprised me about the experience is that I didn't freak out. I had one moment of "holy crap, this really can't be happening", but that's it. I knew boyfriend would realize something was wrong and would come find me. I just had to stay calm and be patient. 

In my tellings of this story, some have asked me why I didn't kick down/through the door. Two reasons: 1. The door is an unusual size and would be incredibly difficult to find a match. 2. The building is a converted house that was built in the 50s and that has had a few additions. It has settled and shifted and that particular door frame is just crooked enough that IF I found the right size door, there's no guarantee it'll fit into the frame properly.

Moral of the story: When you're alone in a building, ALWAYS take a phone with you to the bathroom so you can at least call for help if something ridiculous happens.