Right coffee, wrong toilet.

There is a coffee shop just around the corner from where I live. Sometimes, just sometimes I get stuck in their washroom. Washroom is the wrong word. You don’t primarily go in there to wash. I could use the word bathroom? But bathroom is wrong. You NEVER go into a coffee shop to bathe. And getting stuck in their toilet just sounds far worse then it actually is. So, I will stick with the word washroom.
The coffee in there is great. It’s brown, hot and comes in mugs. Just what you want from a coffee. The one thing that it also seems to do is make me pee. Some days, it’s so bad, I feel like cutting out the middle man completely by ordering a medium roast and then just pouring it straight down the toilet.
Anyway, there is something about the washroom door here that I just cannot seem to get to grips with. It loves locking me in. I have tried all the hand actions I can think of. Push, twist.
Twist, pull, Twist, twist.
Push, pull. Pull, pull, pull.
Or my personal fav, twist, pull, panic, push, twist, pull, pull, pull.
The real trick to this is making it seem to the outside world that nothing is wrong. Heaven forbid that people outside, sipping their Lattes actually realize that you are stuck in there. On one occasion, armed with Groomies laptop, I almost fired it up to send a distress email to her. What with her laptop being trapped in the washroom with me, I have no idea how I expected her to receive this cry for help? Just one of many brain farts that usually occur when I am tired or panicky. You know the ones, you get up from watching tv, go to the kitchen to throw a yoghurt pot in the bin, return to the living room, then find yourself trying to change channel with an empty yoghurt pot, while wondering where on earth the remote is now? (Bin).
I really don’t like getting stuck in washrooms. I think it’s some sort of primal fear? Many millenia ago, our cavemen ancestors were probably trapped in washrooms all the time? Cave Bears and sticky locks were a real killer back then. Heaven help you if you found yourself trapped in a washroom with a Cave Bear and a sticky lock.
While I’m on the subject of early man. How on earth did we figure bread out? I mean, what was primitive man doing the day he (or she) discovered how to make bread? Who the hell came up with the idea in the first place? Who even came up with the idea of throwing food into fire and cooking it?
Anyway…..
I don’t like getting stuck in there. And I hate the idea of having to be “rescued” by staff or customers. So now, if I get stuck, I try to limit my “twist, pull” attempts to one every minute or so? Just so it doesn’t give the impression of panic. Panic in the washroom is never a good thing. And don’t even get me started on the fear of running out of toilet paper……