Trapped in the Bathroom.

3 Dec

Last night in San Angelo was eventful. We played a great venue called The House of Fifi Dubois, which is a stellar retro/antique store with a bar and a stage in the back of it. It’s in a huge downtown building that is 100 years old itself…very cool. Those folks do it right.

So then we got to our motel, looking forward to cable TV and a bed. Susan went in the bathroom and before too long I hear the door handle jiggling and Susan yells that she is stuck. The knob was not engaging the thing that makes the door open. I said, “HOLD ON! LET ME GOOGLE IT!” Because that is what I do. So I googled how to pop a lock with a credit card and it worked and Susan rejoiced and we thought that was funny. She had to go walk to dogs who had been in the car for 8 hours, and I was going to settle myself in.

My Temporary Home

So I go in the bathroom and shut the door a little bit but not completely, and I take a shoe off and while doing that…I lean into the door.

And Susan’s words echo in my head…”We’re going on a fairly long walk.”

Fairly. Long. Walk.

Nothing on my person…no phone, no hotel key card to jimmy it.

This will not do. I will not be stuck in the motel bathroom for “fairly long.”

The first course of action is to jiggle and yank on the door. This is not doing anything. I look around; there’s not much in a motel bathroom. There is a little wrapped bar of soap, so I unwrap it and see if I can make a stiff enough piece of paper to jimmy it. No dice. I toss the soap.

Guitar Pick Screwdriver

I do always carry guitar picks in my pocket, and there are two screws on the knob. The next 40 minutes is spent slowly, one quarter turn at a time while sitting on the motel bathroom floor…unscrewing the screws. The top one comes pretty easily and freedom was in sight. The bottom one just kept unscrewing and unscrewing. I got bored. I got lightheaded from angling my head in an upwards but sideways fashion while moving a metal screw millimeters at a time. I decided there was one more recourse.

The Screw

I ripped the check out time placard off the bathroom door (I had already half dismantled the knob so I figured what’s a little more property damage?). It was a plastic-y material and I thought that might be able to handle the credit card trick. Nope. Back to unscrewing with a guitar pick.


Then I just gave up and figured that Susan would be done with her walk soon. I stood there, sending telepathic messages of “DISCOMFORT! LOCKED! TRAPPED!” hoping that she would somehow pick up on the vibes. It’s worth a shot.

I started planning out my little life in the bathroom. I had water. I had a towel, I could make a little pillow. I could do chin ups on the towel bar to stay in shape. The acoustics were good so I could work on my singing. Maybe I could write a novel on the wall by scratching words with my guitar pick. Maybe I could burrow through the floor, or move the ceiling tiles like in Jurassic Park.

Then Susan came back in the room.


“…Oh no.”

She did the credit card trick (it works way faster if you’re on the outside using the card FYI). She then went to complain at the desk but there was no manager. We will see how this plays out but I’m hoping for at leasy 40 free nights. I won’t name the chain. (Spotel Mix).


Susan promptly tweeted the happenings, and then we laaaaaaaaughed. It’s good to have a friend on the road for when you get locked in the bathroom.

Comment Form