I had dinner Saturday night in London, at my brother's home, with a bevy of family and friends. It was set to be an informal, casual affair. And it would have been a delightful evening -- though I expect utterly forgettable in the scheme of things had it not been for an unexpected bathroom misadventure.
The economy was on everyone's mind that night and we chatted back and forth comparing tales from the UK, US and Canada. There were two UK lawyers at the table, and one Canadian real estate entrepreneur and his girlfriend and their stories, Claudia, an American artist, myself and the children. The talk was about the hundreds upon hundreds of layoffs and all the other losses big and small. Everything was doom and gloomier. I got up to go to the bathroom - as much for a change of scene as anything. The nearest bathroom near our dinner table was a small 'powder room' . Once in, I had trouble locking the door. Once I tried to get out, I couldn't. I jiggled the lock but it would not budge. I tried pushing and pulling on the door - to no avail. I waited, tried again. Nothing. Tried again, no luck. The door was shut tight like a clam.
I stared at the door a while weighing my options. It struck me that this was exactly what people were feeling in the current economy -- faint, clausterphobic, even a bit panicky. I'd gotten off the London tube earlier that day because it felt like a narrow and confining sausage. Now I was facing another experience in confinement. I started rapping gently on the door - politely calling out for help. My cries for help fell on deaf ears. Nobody came. The irony of the experience did not escape me. The talk at the table was about the near-calamity of the economy and how there was no easy exit and there I was trapped in the bathroom.
After a few seconds, my generally optimistic and appreciative state of mind dissolved into abject panic. I began to shout - 'Hey! Hello! ' and my rapping took on the tenor of insistent open-handed hammering. My oldest nephew came running and said, 'Christiane, are you locked in?' Within a few seconds, he got me out of there with a little jiggling on the outside handle.
Just as we returned to the table and sat down, Jim, the Canadia real estate developer and entrepreneur left the table and headed for the bathroom. I thought about warning Jim but then decided I didn't know him well enough and that his vast accomplishments made him perfectly capable of mastering the loo.
Moments passed and I heard the sound of a jiggling door. The other guests at the table were deep in conversation, talking loudly, laughing, generally oblivious and unconcerned. I was the only adult - having suffered the recent indignity of being stuck in the bathroom - with her ear tuned to the happenings down the hall. The jiggling did not sound promising.
My niece and nephew jumped to their feet first and ran down the hall. "Jim, are you okay? Are you locked in?" I could hear the children peppering the closed door with their concern. And I could hear nothing of Jim. Concerned, I got up from the table and headed out to help.
When I got to the bathroom door, the children were jiggling the door handle.I pressed my face to the door and spoke loudly. 'Jim, do you need help? Are you trying to get out?'
There was silence from inside the loo. I thought back to Jim's conversation earlier in the evening and how he had told us that Canadians were faring better than their UK and US counterparts because Canadians were always a tad more conservative or boring in their financial dealings. Everyone chimed in at once about how lovely boring suddenly sounded.
After a few more moments of silence, there came a calm squeek of curious bewilderment and then a polite stream of words as if Jim had been calmly assembling his chosen words from a box of scrabble letters . 'Ahhh....Nooooo, I am not... trying.... to get out and I ...don't... think(!) I need any help.' The children and I looked at each other in shock realizing the error of our ways. He wasn't locked in at all! We had just disturbed an unsuspecting Canadian in the bathroom.
Seconds later, Jim returned to the table. I leaned into him trying to explain that I had been locked in the bathroom moments before and was afraid he had suffered the same fate. As he looked at me unable to disguise a wide grin, dinner conversation ceased. Everyone turned to look at Jim. The air was pregnant with glee -- everyone could feel it.
"I thought I could steal away discreetly....unnoticed," said Jim, enjoying his sudden non-boring notoriety. ".... then I hear children's voices asking if I'm okay in there... then an adult's voice," Jim throws an eyebrow-askew look my way and continues on, ".... asking if I need help getting out of the bathroom and if I was trying to get out. No, I said, I don't need any help..and I am not trying to get out!"
Hysterical laughter and folly ensued. My youngest nephew piped up with one more question. "Were you caught with your pants ....or your underpants...down?" The room exploded in windy gails of laughter.
Jim, the Canadian entrepreneur, had taught us all a good lesson in how to get out of the bathroom -- or out of the perception that you can't get out of the bathroom, especially when it is not locked and everyone else thinks it is. Adopt calm, boring, certainty that you will get out. And have a sense of humour about it. Jim seemed to know what the rest of us at the table had forgotten. If you think you're trapped, you are. If you think you're not, you're not. Getting caught with your proverbial pants down - whatever the cause - doesn't have to be the disaster we think it is. It can become an opportunity to practice humility, adopt humor, and count your blessings.
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