Bathroom Embarrassment

I was living in Halifax and as a young, single gal at the time got "hooked up" with a friend of a friend to go out on a date. Now I wasn't interested in seriously dating this guy, but our mutual friend was very excited for us to go out, so I thought, well, a date or two won't hurt.

We went out and played pool (I won — every game) and strolled around downtown. We were a bit hungry and decided to go for dessert. I suggested an awesome place called La Cave, not because it is known for being the most romantic restaurant in Halifax, but because it is known for having the absolute best cheesecake. We had just been seated in our "cave" and I excused myself to go to the ladies room. The ladies room was small with two stalls, one out of order. There was a lady just going in ahead of me and she had a problem getting the door closed. The stall doors were wood like normal doors on a house and had no space above or below them of significant value. I told her I would hold the door closed for her if she would do the same for me. Perfect. When she exited she thanked me and I pulled on the door and voila — it closed.

When it came time to exit I turned the knob and pushed, and nothing happened. I fooled around with the knob trying to see if I had somehow locked it. It was unlocked. Luckily the other lady was still in the sink area and asked if I was having a problem with the knob. She came over and tried from the outside. We figured the lock was just stuck and so she went to get her credit card to try sweeping it up past the lock. She came back and tried that. No dice. It wasn't opening. I tried pushing hard, lifting the knob while pushing, every door-opening tactic I could think of. The lady went and got her friend. They both tried pulling on the door, nothing was happening. I was beginning to get a bit anxious as I was now locked in a 3x2 area with just a toilet, paper dispenser and nowhere to climb out.

The lady's friend commented how it would be very funny if I were there on a first date or something. I didn't return the laughter. I told them I actually was there on a first date. They asked me if I wanted them to go tell him something. I'm thinking, "Sure, tell him I'm not trying to skip out on the date, I'm locked in the bathroom. Yeah, right, he'll buy that." Well, I had to tell him something, it had been ten minutes by this point. I explained where we had been sitting and one of the ladies went to tell him what was going on. The other went to get a waitress.

Before I knew it, my date was in the washroom asking if was ok. Oh yeah, completely fine, having the time of my life actually. Good job you can't see how incredibly red and embarrassed I am! This evening is going splendidly, don't you think?

Next, the waitress joined us, along with the two original ladies and their male friends. That's six people in the ladies bathroom talking to me. Everyone tried their hand at getting the door opened. It was not budging. By now they've drawn a crowd of spectators who were asking what's going on in the washroom. I suggested to the waitress that she get a screwdriver and see if she can take the doorknob apart, it might be jammed or something. She came back after a few minutes and told me she doesn't have a screwdriver and she had to call a maintenance man. He's on his way. Lovely. So, I waited. By this point I really just wanted to be alone. My date kept trying to make encouraging conversation, like, "don't worry." Everyone else was offering suggestions on why the door might not be opening and so forth.

By this point I've been in the stall for at least 30 minutes. The maintenance guy finally arrived with some tools. He started by removing the doorknob, but that didn't help. The door was still stuck. He then took off all of the door hinges. Then he had to put the doorknob back on because he had nothing to grip the door with to pull on it. The door was still stuck.

At this point I was beginning to freak out a little. I was getting all warm, and in my mind I've decided that I've probably used up most of the stall's air supply and I really wanted to get out!

The maintenance man was getting equally frustrated. He told me to kick the door in a specific location, about two feet up and one foot in from the left. So, like a ninja in a bad kung-fu movie I gave my best straight kick (there was no room to manipulate sideways or do anything fancy) and put a foot-shaped hole in my side of the door. The door does not budge, but hey, at least I made a hole for fresh air. Then he told me to "Run and throw your shoulder into it." I sarcastically asked where he would like me to run from. I had about three feet from the back wall if I wedge in by the toilet. I gave the door my best body check. The door still hadn't moved and my shoulder was now in pain. I was really frustrated now. The maintenance man mumbled something about going to get a razor. Of course, an excellent choice. While you're at it, can you bring back an axe for me?

He came back shortly and began scraping all around the door. Apparently they had done some painting in the bathroom and he thought the paint may have sealed the door. He scraped for about five minutes. At this point I had been in the stall for almost 40 minutes. He told me to give it one more "running shoulder." I threw myself at the door and it flew off and I came stumbling out. I looked up to see a crowd cheering my release. I was basically mortified. Right in the front of the cheering crowd was my date. I say nothing except for thanking the original two ladies who "stood by me" through the ordeal and we headed back to our cave. Now, I ask you, who can now eat a normal meal after something like that? We ate our cheesecake, which was on the house, with barely a word of conversation. At the end of the night we caught our separate buses and he never phoned me again.

How did this build character, you ask? Well, I now have a fear of bathroom stalls that have a full door and go floor to ceiling.