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Published: April 12th 2011
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This is them
(no I did not actually take this picture) The Bathroom of Horrors
Struggling with the heavy metal door, we squeezed into the ladies room, which was already teaming with people. Fortunately, most of the girls were only in there to add a couple finishing touches to their already sublime hair, so I managed to secure a bathroom stall right off the bat. It was one of those fancy handicap bathrooms with a 4inch thick wooden door and sturdy crank lock that looked as if it was designed to keep grizzly bears at bay instead of old ladies needing to take a tinkle. Clicking the lock into place, I relieved myself, washed my hand s in the high-tech in-stall mini sink, and then twisted the bathroom door handle…it didn’t budge.
After a flash of white -hot panic had shot through my chest, I remembered that I hadn’t actually turned the lock. Rolling my eyes at my own stupidity, I gave the lock a crank. It wouldn’t budge. I tried a twist in the opposite sense, a jiggle, a twist then a jiggle, a yank , a push, a pull. Nothing… Adrenaline coursing through my veins, I waited for that burst of super-human strength that supposedly
comes with being absolutely petrified. You know the one that allows mothers to lift burning trucks to retrieve their small helpless children from underneath fiery wreckages. I gave the door a bang… I definitely wouldn’t be lifting flaming trucks any time soon.
“Victoria?” I tried for a calm tone of voice and failed miserably, “I think I’m locked in the bathroom”
Yes, perhaps decades later, this last statement might appear slightly comical but, for now, I was engulfed by misery. Slumping against the bathroom door, I felt absolutely trapped. I thought gloomily of the mortification of having to get one of the humongous bouncers outside to kick the door down. However, anything would be preferable to missing the concert for which I had waited with utmost impatience the entire day. I also harbored no desire to live the rest of my life in the confines of a handicap bathroom stall. Perhaps when I got out, I would take after Robinson Crusoe and write of my adventures trapped in a dimly lit room with only a toilet bowl for company ; it would never sell.
Sighing, I heaved myself to my feet and decided to give the lock
BB Brunes
OOoo lala! one last try before giving Victoria the right away to call in a rescue team. CLICK! The lock slid into place and I was freeeee!!!! I could have sang, I could have danced…Hallelujah!!
Victoria, in the mean time was laughing uncontrollably, although I am sure she wouldn’t have been had it been her trapped in a bathroom stall for 15 minutes.
The Concert
We nipped quickly over to the merchandise booth where (with my new found appreciation for life) I avoided spending my life’s savings and settled for a poster. Heading back into the crowded concert hall, we located Charlotte and Alex just in time; for the show was about to begin.
The opening band was called “Mr Soap and the Happy Tomatoes” (a bit of a mouthful for the french)and, to my delight, I loved them. Like many French bands here, most of their songs were in English, so I had the luxury of understanding the lyrics. The lead singer had a really unique voice and all their songs were upbeat and cheerful; I was actually disappointed when they left the stage. Of course, the best was yet to come….
For a couple
minutes after “Mr. Soap and the Happy Tomatoes had left the stage, there was a lull in the crowd. Then suddenly, someone let of a shriek which set off a chain reaction of shrieks and , as if on queue, The BB Brunes exploded onto the stage. The crowd went wild. We jumped; we screamed we moved our mouths pretending to actually know the lyrics to the songs. It was the time of my life. At moments I would even catch on to some of the choruses and start singing excitedly with the others (mostly I just stuck to cheering though).
The band was really getting energetic now and, about halfway through the concert the drummer sent his drumsticks hurtling into the crowd. Time slowed down. In a desperate attempt to catch one I shot my arms into the air. One drumstick seemed to be coming straight towards me but, at the last moment, it veered to the right just missing my outstretched palm. BAM! It nailed an elderly looking lady behind me right in between the eyes. On second thought maybe it wasn’t such a brilliant idea to throw myself into the path of fast-moving wooden objects. I ducked
just in time to avoid being pegged by the second drumstick and recovered quickly to see where it had fallen. It had fallen right into the hands of Alexiane, who now held it triumphantly for the rest of us suckers to see.
Darn!..next time, next time…
Unfortunately, there was no next time because, after one fantastic finale, the concert had come to an end. We filed out of the concert hall still high off of the BB Brunes spectacular performance, and met Eric (Charlotte’s Dad) in the parking lot.
That night I slept like a rock (no pun intended) and dreamed happily of good times in France.
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