Stuck in the loo!

Oh dear, I visited Mont St. Michel the other day and we stayed at the Auberge Saint-Pierre on the island.

Since, this was a surprise day trip, I didn't know that it was 40 minutes away or I would have used the loo before we left St. Malo.  Had my crystal ball been working (or if I even had one), I definitely would have gone if I'd known we were going to drive 20 minutes in the wrong direction first, essentially doubling the length of the journey.  Furthermore, had I know it was a 500 meter walk (1/2 KM) to the island and another 500 meters to our hotel room, I definitely would have used the bathroom.

So, you can imagine when i got into the hotel room, I needed to pee pronto.  I dropped my bag, gave the hotelier a oui, oui, merci and bolted to the loo, locked the door and released my bladder.  When I went to exit the 2'x3' quarantine, the door was jammed.  The lock would not unlatch!  Holy shit, I was stuck in the loo.

I banged on the door and called out to my friend that I was stuck in the loo to which he laughed then called the front desk.  How embarrassing, right?  The lady from the front desk came down about 10 minutes later with some WD40 and sprayed it into the keyhole.  That did not help. I was still stuck.
She insisted we needed a screwdriver (which I had already suggested in English, not French).  So, she left, leaving me imprisoned in the loo for another 10 minutes.  During that time, I decided to sit down on the toilet, what was I going to do?  Stand?  So I sat and put my feet against the wall, to which they would not stretch out all the way because it was so small.

Through the door, I overheard a phone conversation that Mickael was having with Marc that went a little like this, "blah blah blah (in French), yes, I swear, she's stuck in the toilet....no I'm not kidding....blah blah blah (in French)" plus some nervous laughter.... "oui oui oui, au revoir...what is taking them so long."

Then I started to look around.  I wasn't nervous so much as starting to get bored and therefore crafty. Then I started to think, Holy Shit, this was a castle, everything was made of limestone and solid materials from the 16th century.  Even the door was solid wood, not particle board.  If I were MacGuyver, what would I do?  I began thinking about taking the rivets off my shoelace holes to use as a makeshift screwdriver to take off the handle and imagines prying wood off the moulding to create a pick lock. That's when it occurred to me that I carry a Swiss Army knife everywhere I go.  So, I called out of the loo and told Mickael where he could find it and I was rescued!

Mark, you saved the day!  Best. Present. Ever