Where Art Lingers With Music

When I was told this story, I was driving the car.  I was laughing so hard I had to stop and get myself composed.  Cricketman is retired, and he keeps himself busy, and sometimes out of trouble.  Yesterday, that did not go too well for him.  Here is his story in his words:

Well not really terror, more like total embarrassment.
I can laugh at this now but when it happened, I wasn’t laughing. I spend two hours every morning at the Chapel cleaning. Today, for me, it was bathroom day. Toilets, sinks, mirrors and floors all get washed. While doing the woman’s washroom, I noticed the outside stall door had been locked from the inside. I could not see any reason for it to be locked, and as much as I tried to unlock it from the outside, the door stayed latched. The only way for me to get inside the outside stall was to slide under the wall partition. Unfortunately it has been years since I have tried this manoeuvre and I was a lot skinnier back then. I was able to lie on my back and push my upper body underneath the petition and inside the stall. Unfortunately my waist would not fit. With a bit of a struggle I did manage to squeeze my waist under the partition but by this time my hips were now under the partition. The door latch was out of reach from the floor and I could not raise my body to reach it.  I also could not push my body out the way I came in. I managed to prop up my upper body and brace my head and neck against the toilet bowl. I was able to reach up over my head, and behind my back to unlatch the door. What I forgot to remember was that the door swings in! I was able to drop my head back to the floor and pull the door over me. It was at this point that I realized I had raised my knees, the other side of the petition, and brace my feet against the wall. My upper body was pinned under the stall door, my lower body was pinned under the wall partition. Do you see where this is going? I was going nowhere! I laid there for about 5 min. hoping that no one would find me until I extricated myself or the fire department had been called. After a time, which felt like an eternity, I was able to kick off my shoes and thus able to drop my knees. At this point I could slide myself under the stall door. Incidentally, the door is slightly lower than the wall panel.  Does the term” like a greased pig” bring anything to mind? That is exactly how I felt. Next time I think about sliding under a washroom partition, I will send a much smaller, thinner person than myself.