Here's a little page-long story I just wrote up on this afternoons unusual adventure.
Stuck in the Shower
A True Story
I lie on my side, in a crescent shape on the green tile floor. Near my feet, a stream of water trickles down the glass wall and to the drain near my head. My eyes are closed and my hand is resting over my upturned ear to keep out the occasional water drips from above. The room is clouded with steam. I roll onto my back and glance at the tile ceiling. I sit up. It’s time I’d best get out of the shower. Besides, the water is getting too cool for me. And nobody likes it when I empty the hot-water tank anyways.
Still sitting, I reach up and turn off first one shower fixture, then the other. After a few moments I stand and stretch. My nose is still stuffed-up and my throat still sore but I can tell the steam shower has done much to heal my cold. I move to the glass door separating this double-headed green tile-lined shower from the rest of the bathroom. My hand grasps the small metal knob and pulls. The door doesn’t budge.
Oh, great. The shower had done this before on me quite a few times. My use of extremely hot water and no fan frequently causes the glass door to swell and become inoperable. I sigh and sit down on the floor again, but after a few moments I am back up with an idea. I grab the nearest shower head and remove it from its head-high hook and stretch the silver cord out to its full length. I switch the water setting to light mist and turn on the water as cold as it will go. Keeping my feet out of the icy stream, I gently spray the edges of the glass door and the tile jambs. After a few minutes of this, I turn off the water and try again. It still won’t budge. I feel the glass around the door. It has reached a cold temperature; my cold-water trick didn’t work.
I sigh and sit again on the bench on the far side of the shower. The previous times this situation had happened it was only a few minutes before the door became loose enough to open. I decided to start counting the time, so I can give an actual time-record to my family. 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10, 11, 12…
Soon I reach sixty seconds. I already gave myself two minutes for the time I spent trying the cold water on the door. I count another sixty seconds, so now I’m at four minutes. Then five. I continue to count; minutes six, seven and eight fly past. I keep trying to door every so often, but I’m afraid to pull too hard in case the glass might break. But during minute nine, I slowly pull harder and harder and still the door doesn’t open. Or break for that matter. By minute ten I’m getting a little antsy. The situation is not an emergency; I have all day to spend here, but then I really don’t want to be in the shower for more than necessary. I remember previous times when I called my mother into the bathroom and from the outside she was able to open the door. But mom is gone, and so is my dad, so I yell out to my brother Collin.
“Collin!” The word echoes loudly in the shower room. I begin my counting on minute eleven. When I reach thirty seconds I yell again.
“COLLLLINN!” No response. I begin tapping my hands against the tile in rhythm to my counting: 31, 32, 33, 34, 35, 36, 37, 38, 39, 40, 41, 42. At sixty seconds I yell out again; still no response. Eleven minutes have passed. I try the door. It doesn’t open but budges a bit. I count up another sixty seconds. Now I’ve been in here stuck for twelve minutes. I try the door again. Nothing. I pull harder, it begins to wiggle. I give it one final yank and it finally comes unstuck and swings open. I stand for a few minutes, grinning, then step out and go on with my life.