Tagebuch: March 2007
Back in Iceland, my gay friend Samuel and I decided to stay over at a friend’s house after a concert rather than go all the way home. It was very late and I was exhausted; I went into the guestroom to get ready for bed and my friend followed to say goodnight, closing the door behind him so as not to wake our host.
He turned back with a frown on his face... and showed me the doorknob that had come off in his hand.
We both froze.
I looked at him and then at the door. Endless jokes came to mind. No use in luring Samuel into the sack. Still, there is nothing better than having your best friend beside you in a crisis.
"You do realise that I don’t do it with girls," he said, as if it were news. I laughed.
"Too bad," I teased. "Where’s my boyfriend, when I really need him." But I was sure Samuel wished the same.
All kidding aside, though, we had to get out. But whatever we tried, the door stayed firmly shut.
I tried to stay calm, while my heart was pounding and my mind filling up with questions. What could we do? Whom could we contact? When would we get out? I even tried using a cash card to pry it open, in hopes that I had learned something from the movies.
Nothing worked. And out of credit on his mobile phone, my friend tried sending text messages. No one responded.
To be locked in is very unpleasant. You feel claustrophobic, trapped, threatened. It gets worse when you realise you need to go to the toilet. Or somehow have to get to work in the morning.
Eventually, hours later, my mom called, wondering where we were. I felt a rush of relief.
Calm as ever, she said she would stop to pick up a friend and come over to get us out. My sister, along for the ride, walked in complaining we had made her late for work.
I hardly noticed. In fact, I have never been so pleased to see anyone in my life. Though it wasn’t much fun going home and having your dad call you "an idiot."
Nobody said anything about the doorknob.