In an earlier column I revealed how Ann was mortified at discovering a man in the woman's restroom at the theater but she was in the wrong one.
Ann and her husband took two of their young grandsons out to eat. During a trip to Ft. Necessity, she became trapped in a stall.
Plan A: She jiggled the locking mechanism, pushed on it, banged on it, tried to turn the knob; ditto. She threw her massive, muscular body (wink) at the door. Only her clavicle moved.
Plan B: The door did not go all the way to the floor and since she is not a large person she thought, "Maybe I can crawl under it." But she thought, "The floor in most public restrooms are not exactly as clean as the surgical theater at IU Medical Hospital; maybe the sewer in New Delhi, India, may be cleaner." Decision: There would be no crawling under the door.
Plan C: She looked up to the top of the door and considered climbing over it to escape Jane Commode. Ann is barely five feet tall and weighs about the same as 100 pounds of flour. She thought, "Maybe if I stand on the stool, grab the coat hook, leap and pull myself up and over with my bulging biceps...." Reality slapped her on the face and chided, "Are you kidding me? Get serious. You aren't exactly a rock climber. When was the last time you scaled half dome in Yosemite? That's right. Never."
Plan D: Swallowing her dignity and flushing her pride down the porcelain convenience, she began to yell, "Help." Customers could not determine the source of her plaintive cry.
At that moment one of the grandsons had to visit John Commode. As he approached the restroom he heard Help! Help! and recognized the voice of his Gramma.
"Gramma, Is that you?"
"Yes, go tell your Grampa that I am stuck in here."
Forgetting his personal need he raced back to the table and breathlessly stammered, "Gramma is locked in the restroom and she is hurt real bad."
Grampa rushed to the restroom as Ann continued to shriek. "Ann," he yelled, "Are you alright? The boy said you are hurt!"
"I'm alright," she replied despondently, "I am stuck in this stall."
Grampa, suppressed a chuckle and quickly found the manager who said, "I have a special key to open those stalls. We just had the locks replaced this morning."
She wiggled and jiggled the locking mechanism with no luck. "I'm sorry ma'am," she said, "Are you alright?"
"Yes," Ann retorted in girlish pique, "But I am a bit claustrophobic and more than a little mad and I want out of here!"
At that moment the lock responded and she was freed. Back at the table Grampa and the two boys were roaring with laughter. One grandson said, "Gramma, I saved your life. If I hadn't heard you yelling you would still be there."
The other grandson said, "I can't wait to tell the class about this at school on Monday."
"Oh, great," Ann thought. "That is all I need to make my humiliation complete." Muffled cries of help and giggles-a-plenty from the back seat tormented Ann on the way home.
Grampa has scheduled tests and some follow up sessions with Dr. W.C. Necessary at the Powder Room Clinic in Flushing, New York. He hopes to get to the bottom of Ann's issues with public restrooms.
My website Larryvandeventer.com - Read about me, my books, and my columns. Larry Vandeventer grew up North of Calvertville on a farm and graduated from Worthington High School and Indiana State U. He can be reached at Goosecrick@aol.com or 317-839-7656.