Locked in the John Part Two

I have to be ready for anything I find. Didn’t I get locked in a coffee shop bathroom that time and the cops and the fire department were all tap-tapping on the door and the store manager saying “O My God! O My God!” (What did she think I was doing in there, holding the espresso grounds hostage?  Giving birth? Dying?)Since that time I never go into any bathroom without my phone. I started to faint in the tub last year and, well, Old Dave is as deaf as a haddock when he lies on his left ear. So I phoned him, woke him up that way. I was going down for the third time when he staggered in to the bathroom and hauled me out; his expression was like the one a Midwesterner might wear at the pale and sorry sight of his first beached whale.So just today when I ducked into the Ladies Room of a largely deserted building and then couldn’t get out again I thought “Dang!’ Then “Let me at that tricky little phone of mine.” I had just downloaded Twitter  so that was good anyway. I could send a little message-in-a-bottle that way and maybe some 12-year old in Korea would get word to the building superintendent.  First though I scratched at the door some, like a dog will do when you lock him up. Then the plots to at least three Edgar Allen Poe stories came back to me and I was just looking up to see if a giant pendulum was lowering itself down to turn me into luncheon meat when I saw it: the other door. “T, you dope,” I said right out loud because this wasn’t the door to the bathroom at all; it was the supply closet!Disaster averted for another day anyway. Now click here to see what happened last time. The giant  coffee company sends me a check every month not to mention their name. :-)