I have linoleum tile in my bathroom and I have a functioning bladder and ass bladder (sometimes called guts, sometimes called digestive tract). These two facts are mutually exclusive but came together in a harrowing way recently.
I had been imbibing in a series of frosty beverages over the course of my labor day (or Labor day, for you purists) and had been feeling pretty alright. Until the urge to urinate befell me. Being a reasonable sort of fellow who doesn’t piss himself, others or the mailbox, I ventured indoors to make use of the plumbing I so covet.
As it happens, someone had showered recently in my washroom and there were no bathmats down. The result? A moistened floor. This didn’t strike me as an issue as I stood there urinating in my toilet, looking at the shelf that holds my shampoo and various other toiletries. What did strike me as an issue was when I finished, then flushed, then took a step towards the sink to wash my hands and completely wiped the hell out.
Thanks to the peculiar nature of the tile in my bathroom, a light coating of water basically makes it some kind of otherworldy ice rink. My legs flew out from underneath me and, in another place at another time, I would end the story here with a bump on my head, but that wasnot meant to be, thanks to the architecture of my bathroom. Here’s a handy diagram.
As you can see, the place I fell, which we’ll call the pain zone, is right in front of my sink and door. But the sink exists in a recessed part of the room, back in from the wall, effectively making a very tiny hallway towards the door. When I fell, one leg went towards the door, but one went under my sink. And then a most curious thing happened as the foot heading towards the door continued after hitting the door, as did the foot heading towards the sink, despite hitting the bottom of the cabinet.
Turns out the door to my bathroom is two pieces of shitty particle board with nothing in between them and the bottom of my bathroom cabnet is the same piece of particle board held in place by whispers and mouse farts. When enough pressure is applied to either, they both give way like a rice paper wall in a tornado. The result of this was me doing the splits on a wet floor with my left foot literally lodged inside a door and my right foot under the sink. My legs were extended to such a degree that I could not pull the leg out from under the sink thanks to my other leg being stuck in the hole I kicked through the door. I have literally trapped myself on the bathroom floor doing the splits. I have never experienced anything so stupid in my life. In fact, I wasn’t even aware shit this stupid could happen.
I lay in pain for a time on the floor before I realized I was stuck, of course, but after I did realize the issue I was struck with the horrible realization that I would have to stay like this until someone was able to show up and release my foot then give me a little push. I was just laying here like a twat, legs spread like some kind of desperate sexual deviant.
How long can a guy lay on a floor with his foot through the bathroom door before someone notices? About 30 minutes. It was a solid half hour before anyone wondered what was taking me so long and then I was met with a “dude, is that your foot?” from the other side of the door. Yes dude, it’s my foot.
Dislodging my foot from a door was a simple matter of allowing the weak and fibrous wood to grate across my flesh like splintery teeth, helpfully divesting me of unwanted ankle blood. A few hearty pushes and I was able to bend my own legs again and free myself from my ridiculous Chinese crotch trap. Was it an epic escape, a life-changing event? No. But it was the time I got stuck in the bathroom for a half hour with my foot stuck through a hole in the door.