Monday, June 8, 2009

fuck antiques.

So just when I thought I was never going to come up with any new material ever again, God smited me with a bitch slap (the good kind).

Anyway, this entire story starts out strangely: I'm staying in a Bed & Breakfast in Blacksburg, VA... alone, except for my dog. My dog needs knee surgery (?) that costs half as much in Blacksburg as it does in the suburbs of DC, so my mother decides to send her college-educated daughter on a solitary road trip to get it taken care of. Seeing as I have no job, no real plans, and no warrant out for my arrest for a criminal amount of moving violations like my brother does, I am the obvious choice out of her children currently at home, and though my sister is still probably a better driver than my brother, she is only 14.

The journey: It took me four hours to get here. I did not mind driving four hours, because I took route 81, which is beautiful and mountainous and new to me. Also, I had my recently-synced iPod, containing "La La Land" by Demi Lovado, which I listened to and sang along to no less than 7 times. What I did mind is that my mom forced me to drive her 1999 Honda Odyssey Minivan which has stickers from every school I or my siblings ever attended since pre-school plastered all over the back windshield, so you can hardly see out of it. Additionally, the driver's side window doesn't roll up all the way, so I dealt with a faint hissing sound right in my ear the entire way there. Her reasoning for me driving the van instead of my Camry was that it would be "more comfortable" for my dog, even though my dog spent the entire trip curled up in a neat little ball in the corner of the van, which would definitely have been manageable in my Camry, but whatever.

The destination: The B&B I'm staying at is pretty cute, but I still think it's weird that I'm staying here alone with my dog as a 22-year-old girl. This is also a college town, so it seems kind of pathetic that I'm just rolling up in my mini-van to get a solo room for one night. In any case, I prefer this over a Motel 6, so I'm straight chillin. The self-described "head inn-keeper" is definitely some kind of reformed hippie, and even though she seems way too jittery for someone who probably ate acid-Cheerios for a solid amount of time, she also seems nice and told me which Chinese food places to stay away from.

It's a Sunday and I ended up getting here on the later end, so nothing good was open for me to eat, and I settled for a chicken nugget Happy Meal...
which had no toy. WTF?! Is there some kind of rule that if you order a Happy Meal over the age of 12, you don't qualify for a toy? I mean, it's not like I'm going to play with it, but..... I am. Anyway, I got over it, returned to my room, scoured Facebook for a couple hours, and then went to wash my face, brush my teeth and get ready for bed.

This is an older home, as many B&Bs tend to be. The bathroom has, what I believe to be the original doorknobs that came with the house, in like, 1935. They're really pretty with a nice art-deco glass design around the knob, and brassy handles. I go in, perform my nightly rituals, and turn to leave.

Turn doorknob. Nothing happens.
Turn doorknob other way. Still nothing.
Cock head to the side, turn doorknob again.
Still. Nothing.

Start to get a little nervous and jangle doorknob crazily.
Doorknob is literally spinning on its axle, making no contact with the lock.
Get on hands and knees and try to PICK LOCK with my hair clip.
Realize I have no idea what I'm doing and have only seen this in movies, so I resume jangling doorknob crazily.
No dice.

I'm thinking this:
The doorknob is broken. The doorknob... is broken. I'm stuck in this bathroom in my underwear and everyone in this Bed & Breakfast is sleeping. Would be so. SO. awkward to scream for help. WHAT THE FUCK AM I GOING TO DO?! Is there enough air in this bathroom?

I'm suddently sweltering and gasping for breath

But-- the head inn-keeper told me not to open the windows because the air conditioner is on! FUCK IT, THIS IS AN EMERGENCY!!!!!!!!!!

I fling open the shutters and yank up the window, feeling the cool night air on my frantic face. Breathing.
Is anyone out on the deck? I think to myself. Maybe I should quietly call down and see... Or maybe there's a way I can shimmy down a drain pipe...

I vehemently decide against this after squinting down at the 30 foot drop below my window for a few seconds, and start considering other things.
At least there is a sink, so I have a water supply. I think about where I'm going to sleep in this bathroom. Bathtub seems like a good choice, sort of bed-shaped--- SHUT UP! YOU'RE NOT SLEEPING IN THE BATHROOM!

Reality sets in and I now calmly decide I'm going to get out of this fucking bathroom IMMEDIATELY. I stand in front of the door, take a deep breath, and extend my hand towards that horrible knob... turn it with forged confidence one last time...

The lock clicks out of the latch, and the door swings outward.

I'M FREE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Best. Feeling. Ever. I don't know why it worked that time, and I don't care. I was almost running into my room, making sure to leave the bathroom door WIDE open, to rejoice in the access I had to all my belongings, a real bed, my keys and my phone.

To think! That MF-ing minivan was the least of my worries. Remind me to never do this again.

1 comment:

Anonymous said...

holy shit, I love you. Why can't you turn this entry in as a job app? I'D HIRE YOU. But, seeing as how I'm also unemployed, that's probably not much comfort.

loves and loves.

caro caro.