I was to meet a builder at 9a over at the Williamston  house today so we could get started moving the stairs. I got there about 815a and decided I better head over to McDonalds to use the bathroom before he arrived. When I arrived, the parking lot was full which was a little discouraging. Maybe it was Senior Day I thought. Sure enough, when I went in, there were Seniors everywhere. Knowing their penchant for bathroom hoarding, I wasn’t optimistic. I went into the Men’s room and was amazed there was no one. Locking doors in bathrooms is just a reflex from growing up with five sibs. If it wasn’t locked, some smart ass would open the door and walk away. Then you had to do the penguin across the floor to close the door again. So of course I locked the stall door. When I went to leave, the door wouldn’t open. I turned the handle this way and that and nothing. I pressed the lock button as though that might help and it got stuck inside the handle. I turned it several more times. I started lifting and banging at the door since pounding the shit out of things always seems to help. I looked at the door and thought “I’m going to McGyver the shit out of this”. I checked the door hinge pins to see if I could pop them out but the bottom hole was the size of a pinhole. The physical laws of the universe didn’t stop me from thinking I could fit one of my keys in there despite the fact they were twice the size of hole. No luck. I got out a credit card and tried to jimmy the lock just like Jack Bauer. It didn’t work. I thought it would be embarrassing to call the McDonalds I was stuck at to ask to be rescued from the bathroom stall but I had to get over to the house to meet the builder. Then I remembered my phone was in my car. Throughout this time no one had come into the bathroom. I won the Latrine Lottery on Senior Day no less. There was a space under the door and I was measuring it in my mind and then looking at my middle girth and of course I thought I could fit under the door. And of course that would be when someone came in. Now there is nothing appealing about getting your body down on the pissy floor of a stall at McDonalds. It would give some dry heaves. But I could see no other way out. I was wearing my working bibs so I had to try it. I laid down on my back and slid my head through and started shimmying on the bathroom floor. I got past my chest, and kept squeezing and sucking in my stomach and managed to get right to the middle where my pens and reading glasses were. But on the outside of those pockets is a stupid button so you can snap the pocket shut. So when I decided this strategy was not going to work I tried to back out. But the bottom of the door was sticking on one of the pocket buttons held in place by my glasses and pens. So I was stuck by that damn button. And worst, I couldn’t get my arms up through the bottom of the door and put my hands through to move the button. So I Iaid on the floor contemplating giving up. But then I tried to puff out my chest or suck it in. I could imagine the conversation I could’ve had with a bathroom patron as I lay on the floor, part of my torso sticking out underneath the door. But I decided that I would act like I was passed out or dead, lying still with my eyes closed. They would wonder what happened but I didn’t care because I would be passed out or dead. When the paramedics got there I would come to and ask what had happened. But then I would be taken out on a stretcher and then to the hospital where I would spend the afternoon. At that point, no one was getting into the stall until I got out. Then I thought about that really fat Senior with really loose bowels coming in and having to use the stall. I had visions of having to be rescued by the Fire Department which of course would end up somehow on the Internet. At this point I was getting pissed off (pun) and started flailing my legs back and forth and lifting up my hips in a wild frantic effort to move my torso and get that damn button unstuck. Finally it worked and still no one had come in that bathroom. I got up off the floor and looked around the ceiling because I was sure this was being filmed by some sick bastard. At this point I had no idea what I was going to do. I rubbed my pockets again, trying to find some McGyver material and then I felt my phone that had slid sideways in my pocket. That’s why I didn’t feel it. I asked Siri to find the McDonalds in Williamston and pressed the call button. A young girl answered.
“Hi, I’m stuck in the Men’s bathroom.”

“What?”

“I’m at your McDonalds and I’m stuck in the bathroom because the door is locked and will not open.”

“Oh geez.”

“Can you tell your manager so he can rescue me?”

“Of course!!”

Some kid comes in the bathroom.

“Are you stuck in there?”

“Yes, I’m STUCK in here. Can you get me a screw driver, a hammer and Allen wrenches so I can try and get out of here?” By now it was about 855a.

He came back and slid the tools under the door. I took off the door handle and opened the door. I left everything on the floor, handed the kid my business card and told him I expected his manager to call me and I wanted cheeseburgers for a year.

They still haven’t called.

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