Locked in the Bathroom

It's a pity that yesterday was my bathroom post, because today I got locked inside one.

Tonight we went out in a group to Aix-en-Provence.  We stopped at a fancy Asian-ish restaurant for dinner and had sushi for appetizers and then French entrees.  It was all fairly delicious.  I'm really starting to love sushi.

Anyway, afterward, we headed over to a pub.  I don't know why it is that I can never reliably implement the lesson, "Never pass up the opportunity to pee," but once again, I found myself regretting passing up the opportunity to use the fancy restaurant bathroom and instead having to force my way through a sweaty crowd and wait in line for a bathroom with a centimeter of mysterious liquid on the floor.

There were two bathrooms, but one of them was closed for the entire time I was waiting in line.  I assumed the toilet was clogged or something was otherwise unsavory about it, so I patiently waited with all the others in line for the obviously functional toilet.  Just as I reached the head of the line, however, a girl opened the door of the mysterious other bathroom and peered inside.  All appeared to be in order, and she kindly offered me first dibs, as I was, in fact, at the head of the line.

Though lacking a toilet seat and hand soap, the bathroom experience was not altogether unpleasant until I tried to leave.  After unlocking the door, I grasped the handle and pulled.  It didn't budge.  I tried pushing, and that didn't work either.  After fumbling with the door lever, it broke off in my hand.  I threw it in the sink and had a mini panic time.  The music from the pub was incredibly loud, meaning no one could hear me, and my phone ran out of credit the other day, so I couldn't make calls-- I could only receive them.  A couple of minutes were spent trying to figure out how long I'd have to be gone before my group figured something was wrong, and then I pondered the likelihood that they would figure out I was trapped in the bathroom.

Ultimately, I decided it was impractical to just wait there for someone to find me, so I dug into my purse for my cheap pocket knife and used the tip of the blade to start unscrewing the door hinges, since no one had responded to my attempt at ninja kicking the door down earlier.  Unscrewing the hinges was super slow going though, so I decided to just pound and kick the door like a crazy person indefinitely.  After two minutes, someone stuck their finger into the hole in the door and fumbled with the loose metal pieces until the latch clicked open and I was free and face to face with my rescuer.  It was love at first sight.

Just kidding.  It was an awkward moment where I said, "Uh, merci" while he stared at me with a raised eyebrow until I tossed my purse back over my shoulder and walked back to the dance floor, tripping over the uneven floor once before leaving his sight.

Was not a fan of the French bar experience.