When libraries attack

Worst. Week. Ever.

Saturday, after kicking out the stragglers at closing time, I locked up the library building and shut off the lights. Then, before leaving, I decided to go to the bathroom, where I was promptly stuck due to a broken lock.

So there I was, alone in a small bathroom, in an empty, locked building, and no one knowing that I needed help.

Luckily, I keep my purse in the bathroom, so I did have access to my cell phone. However, cell phones are virtually useless if you have no service and/or your battery is about to die. I kept trying to call home, but the phone continued to disconnect.

Now, I'm about the least emotional girl you're likely to meet. And I am not one for hysterics (it's just too uncivilized). But I had my first full-blown, Level 10 panic attack. Complete with hyperventilation. And tears. Dudes, I don't do tears.

Finally, I got my message through to Gramps, who promised to get help. An hour and 45 minutes later, my grandparents, a cop, a street department employee, and a locksmith had made their way through the building entrance. I had calmed myself down plenty by then. But did they ask if I was okay? No. They stood outside the door laughing. Someone rattled the doorknob and asked if I was in there. Because I could have disappeared somehow.

I heard someone ask, "How old is she? And she's the librarian?" As if I was an idiot who couldn't figure out how to unlock the door. They didn't get it through their stupid male brains that the lock was jammed, broken.

We took the doorknobs off, after the first brilliant idea to poke a pin through the hole in the doorknob to pop the lock. (Still operating under the pretense that I didn't know how to unlock a door.) The locksmith couldn't unjam the lock, so he slipped a flat crowbar through the knob opening, and I pried on the doorjamb while he applied pressure on the outside of the door. The door finally swung open.

Then the cop said, "Sometimes a credit card will just pop those locks open. Did you think to try that?" Because surely a credit card would work better than a crowbar. Then the street dept. guy said, "Well, that'll teach you a lesson to always carry your cell phone." And continued with a story about a 6-year-old girl who shut the light off in the bathroom before unlocking the door, and how she was stuck for about half an hour before they could calm her down to find the light switch. Because that really relates to me being stuck in an empty building with a door lock that's freaking jammed!

Mother of my father, I was ticked off!

And on Monday I was diagnosed with strep throat. It was horrible. I stayed home all week until today.

Yesterday my boss at the same library called me. "Um, April? I'm locked in the bathroom." Yes, the door had struck again. I was going to bring tools to help her get out, but then she called information and had the locksmith come over. But the weird thing is, just her mentioning being locked in the bathroom caused my hands to start shaking and my legs to tremble for about 30 minutes afterwards.

Also, poor little Jersey had a dentist appointment yesterday to get caps on two teeth that were chipped. When she woke up, she was hysterically crying because she didn't understand why she couldn't stand on her own and why her mouth was numb. She kept screaming, "My bones aren't alive anymore!" :( Poor pumpkin.