|This isn't MY picture, its from Yelp! As in "Yelp me I'm trapped!"|
(Cue the suspense jingle with dramatic overtones)
I LOVE Vietnamese food! I was a regular at Nu Mee Fung in the Chinese district in Ottawa. I go goo-goo for the rice paper roll-ups (an asian version of the fajita) and have become very addicted to this meal. Whenever I happen to be in Ottawa, I always make a special trip down memory lane...
(Cue the "get with it" screams!)
I convinced Booby to go with me. The TV was blaring some Viet style Telemundo channel with an obviously translated soap-opera. (Sidenote: even if I don't speak this particular language I can tell its dubbed when the actor is jumping up and down and frantically and madly waving his arms when his speech is as flat as the narration of a How-to-watch-paint-dry documentary.) Booby and I are the only clients, it's 2 in the afternoon. Lunch hour is long over, and the supper crowd isn't about to show up.
We eat. They had NO rice paper roll-ups fajita style, so I got a bowl of yummy msg to have a fun buzz. After eating, I tell him "Gotta go pee..." and ask the waiter as I pantomime the international sign of "gotta pee". (Sidenote #2: important information to add is the fact that the knowledge of English in this place is limited to "Hello" and "Please pay".)
As I walk to the restroom I cross the kitchen (must try to remove visual imagery of this sight if I ever want to return to Pho Little Saigon ever again) and make my way to the restroom/storage/closet space. Space. Yes, this is the correct term. The door is hard to close, I kinda had to yank it shut. As I did this I thought to myself "This'll be fun later, but beats being walked in on mid-stream".
I get the deed done, wash my hands and use the paper towel to grab the doorknob. The knob turns, but the door doesn't budge.
(Cue the suspense jingle with dramatic overtones, same as the first jingle but louder.)
I toss the towel in the trash bin and try the door again. Lock, unlock, turn pull, unlock again, turn the knob, pull, pull, yank, yank, pull. I walk away from the door, shake my head and become amazed by the magic of msg's. They should sell that stuff because it's strong enough to hallucinate jammed doors.
Then, as I am staring at the door wondering how I'll get out of there - the knob turns. It just turns. So I knock on the door and without trying to sound panicked yell out "Heeeelp! I'm trapped! The door won't open!!!" Then nothing.
I call my husband (aka Booby, but the seriousness of the situation warrants the term "husband" when telling the tale of being trapped in Little Saigon it just doesn't sound right to say "I called Booby to save me") and the call goes straight to voice mail. Well, as straight as 5 rings... But voice mail nonetheless. I'm trapped. Will die alone in a restroom/storage/closet space before ever getting a chance to eat rice paper roll-ups one more time! So I call again silently begging him to answer this time. "Can't believe I forgot my phone in the truck" is how he answers.
"Help me! I'm trapped! I can't get out of this bathroom!!!" And we both crack up laughing. I'm banging on the door. He's talking incessantly and I want him to stop so I can hang up and tweet about it. To be honest, I debated over tweeting before calling for help, but I wanted to sound responsible by omitting that part. Dammit, and now it's out there, can't undo it!
He gets to the door but I hear him all the way down the hall as he's barking orders at the staff. He pulls on the door and nothing happens. Being helpful I calmly say "Turntheknobandpull!!!"
"I know how to open doors!" More yelling to the kitchen for help. Now we're both banging on the door. He leaves and goes to the "censored" kitchen and he's being very bossy. I try the door again and it simply opens.
Just like that. And of course I did tweet from the midst of my near-death experience!