The day my door attacked me

Alternatively, I could have called this entry "the day firemen saved me from myself" both are true, but I'm not sure which one is less embarrassing.

Let me set the scene. It started out like any other 9 to 5 workday (or 9:30 to 5:15 if I'm being honest.) I woke up with not a minute to spare, puttering around on my phone per usual. Scrolling through insta- check; completing my daily snaps so as not to lose my snap streak with my childhood bestie in Alabama and my college bff in California- check. Like any normal work day, once the allotted phone scrolling time has ended I perform my morning ritual of wall staring. I'm a pro wall-starer. Give me a wall and I'll stare at it all day to avoid getting ready for work. Eventually reality sets in and I roll out of bed to chug the glass of water on my nightstand.

Trudging the 10 feet to the door, I put my hand on the knob to try and turn the handle and... nada. It doesn't open. It doesn't even turn. It's probably important to mention that I close my bedroom door at night so that my roommate's cats don't decide to wake me up in the middle of the night with a WWE smackdown. There is nothing quite like the feeling of pure terror from having a cat zoom across your body at 3 a.m.

I started jiggling the knob, then banging on it... and when it still didn't budge I went into full panic. Never in my life have I locked a bedroom door before sleeping so I knew it wasn't me. For a while I kept hoping maybe I'm just weak and if I used a towel or a t-shirt to turn the handle, the door would open... it didn't. (I am weak though.) My roommate wasn't home and I started thinking what would be the repercussions of casually screaming until my upstairs neighbors heard me. My roommate can save me. I knew although she wouldn't be able to leave work, she could tell me what to do (perks of having friends smarter than you.)

"Well, if you've tried everything then it's jammed. You have to call 911." She enjoyed that conversation way too much btw. The whole thing was hilarious to her.

So, I called the fire department. The fire department in Cleveland Park, my neighborhood, is precisely a 2 minute walk from my house. It's literally a block away. There's nothing like the grand ego boost of telling the 911 operator that I somehow locked myself in my room and PLEADING with her to not turn on the siren when she sent my rescue team. "I only need one person. Please don't send the firetruck. My apartment is just next door to you" I kept telling her over and over.

"Sorry ma'am it's protocol." The next sound I hear after hanging up the phone is the sound of the firetruck's alarm going off for exactly .02 seconds as they "drove" to my house. The poor alarm barely had a chance to get going before it was abruptly cut short upon arrival.

Firemen are wizards. I have no idea how they were able to get inside the locked, heavy door between my apartment door and the building's entrance, but they did it. They busted up in my apartment so fast like it was a hostage situation. "GET AWAY FROM THE DOOR!" there were four or five of them. For a moment I almost forgot it wasn't a hostage situation. Like the good heroes they were they first tried to turn the knob juuuust in case I was lying. "Wow it really is jammed." Um, yeah. I'm not just in here for fun.

Then the cool part. They legit kicked in my door. I mean wood chips and all were flying. Entering my (very messy) room to ensure my safety before, I was given the good ol' up-nod and they moseyed on out. And just like that it was over. I was free! Left standing in my bedroom with splintered wood everywhere and no door.

Probably the most embarrassing part of the entire ordeal was having to explain to my boss and coworkers that not only was I locked in my room, but the whole freaking fire department had to come save me. With my record for stupidity, no one believes my door suddenly just "got jammed." I'm quite positive to this day my own best friends still believe I locked myself in my room.