Matt’s locked-in-the-bathroom story reminds me

Matt’s locked-in-the-bathroom story reminds me of the time my Aunt Barb got stuck in my mom’s bathroom. It was during a family function of some kind, I forget exactly what. During the festivities, she excused herself and went to use the downstairs bathroom, otherwise known as the phone booth bathroom (as in, it was the size of a phone booth…I’ve seen larger dogs than that bathroom).

Now, the door in this tiny bathroom would not stay closed unless you locked it. Not a problem, unless you didn’t know the precise jiggling frequency required to unlock the door once you were finished. Poor Aunt Barb didn’t know the frequency, and so she jiggled in vain until someone heard her cries for help and came to the rescue. A good 15 minutes went by while pliers were found and the door was taken off its hinges. I don’t think she ever used that bathroom again.