Had a family reunion-cum-hangout session at my aunt’s hotel room in Fairmont Hotel this evening.
Decent place, lovely view and the toilet was like whoa – white, classy and modern. Cousins settled on the bed with their eyes glued to the television set, while the adults settled at a nearby table for a round of cards.
That was when I decided to use the toilet. (For obvious reasons.)
Closed the door, latched it, did whatever I had to do, washed hands and then proceeded to unlock the door and get out.
The last two steps failed.
Stupid door refused to unlock. The stupid latch was jammed in place.
That was when I yelped, and sent everyone outside scurrying over to the toilet door. (At least, that was what I thought – because all of a sudden, I heard a lot of talking and footsteps outside my door.)
Then, I heard Aunty Olive yell.
“OH SHIT! I FORGOT TO TELL BRENDA NOT TO LOCK THE DOOR! THE LOCK IS SPOILT!”
Now, she tells me.
More murmurings could be heard from outside and I heard that apparently – my cousin David had been locked in this very same bathroom in the afternoon, and all efforts at prying the door open using normal means failed. Engineers had to be called in to force the door open with a screwdriver.
My Uncles then began using metal spoons to open the door in a similar fashion – but failed. The stupid door just refused to open.
Housekeeping was called to report the issue.
Ten minutes later, no one had arrived and I was starting to get really agitated. (Yes, I know that the toilet is all modern and classy and all, but I wouldn’t like to be stuck there for an extended period of time with nothing to do except for when I need to have a good shit, thank you.)
Uncles continued to fiddle with the door, and even my mum and my grandmother attempted to have a go at attempting to open the door. Of course – likewise, all attempts failed.
Housekeeping was called again.
Still, no one arrived. Those bums were taking their own sweet time to tend to this issue.
Cousin David attempted to keep me company from outside the door (and likewise, also attempting to pry the lock loose), but it’s hard to have a normal conversation with someone when you can’t even see his face. (Perhaps the same reason why I hate phone conversations.)
Then, one of my relatives dialed for the manager.
The doorbell rang within five minutes. More footsteps were heard as my relatives scurried over to the door. Then, I heard someone jiggling the handle, sounds of scraping metal and the next thing I knew – the door flew open.
Unfortunately, that’s not the end of the story.