The mother of the renting family and my own mom had just left the cottage to go down to the dock. I don't know where the dads or brothers were, maybe out on the water, but I was planning to join the moms down at the dock soon. I just had to use the bathroom first.
Now this must have been my first time going in this particular bathroom, because it turned out more traumatic than anyone could expect or understand.
I finished my business, washed my hands, and went to open the locked bathroom door. It didn't open. I had flicked it unlocked and pulled on it, but it didn't budge. I pulled as hard as I could again, but I was still stuck. I screamed out for anyone in the cottage even though I knew no one was there. In an unreasonable amount of time, I was in a full-on panic; I went from sobbing to scheming in under a minute. Shortly after I realized I was locked in this bathroom, I had a plan: The window.
"I have to break out" I thought "I'm going to die in here". It was this sense of claustrophobia, and imprisonment that set me off. I slid the glass of the window off to the side so only the screen was in my way. I climbed up on the counter, and punched the screen out. Then, crouching in the windowsill, I looked down at the busted screen two stories down, resting on the grass. Yes, that's right, this bathroom was on the second floor. I had punched the screen out of the frame which was already pretty bad-ass, but now I knew I had to jump from this second story window, even more bad-ass.
With a hard fall, I landed on the grass in a clumsy roll, tears still rolling down my cheeks. I got up red-faced and scared. I went down to the water to tell my mom what happened. She was sympathetic, as mothers are, but I still don't truly believe anyone understands what I went though that day. I was hysterically frightened and then heroically brave, or at least that's how I see it.
ps. The door was just jammed. The renting mom opened in seconds, with ease.
You're welcome,
B.F. Greenough, aka,
Chief Hanky, The Wimpy Window-Jumper
I finished my business, washed my hands, and went to open the locked bathroom door. It didn't open. I had flicked it unlocked and pulled on it, but it didn't budge. I pulled as hard as I could again, but I was still stuck. I screamed out for anyone in the cottage even though I knew no one was there. In an unreasonable amount of time, I was in a full-on panic; I went from sobbing to scheming in under a minute. Shortly after I realized I was locked in this bathroom, I had a plan: The window.
"I have to break out" I thought "I'm going to die in here". It was this sense of claustrophobia, and imprisonment that set me off. I slid the glass of the window off to the side so only the screen was in my way. I climbed up on the counter, and punched the screen out. Then, crouching in the windowsill, I looked down at the busted screen two stories down, resting on the grass. Yes, that's right, this bathroom was on the second floor. I had punched the screen out of the frame which was already pretty bad-ass, but now I knew I had to jump from this second story window, even more bad-ass.
With a hard fall, I landed on the grass in a clumsy roll, tears still rolling down my cheeks. I got up red-faced and scared. I went down to the water to tell my mom what happened. She was sympathetic, as mothers are, but I still don't truly believe anyone understands what I went though that day. I was hysterically frightened and then heroically brave, or at least that's how I see it.
ps. The door was just jammed. The renting mom opened in seconds, with ease.
You're welcome,
B.F. Greenough, aka,
Chief Hanky, The Wimpy Window-Jumper
