He watched in mild amusement as the tall violist skittered nervously into the changing area spouting something about how she needed to change. He quickly pointed out the single bathroom/changing room into which she quickly walked. Less than a minute later she came out again mumbling something about the door not closing right and stalked downstairs to find some other place.
He thought to himself, “well, we have a little time before the concert… I’ll just use the toilet” and, remembering the violists words, slammed the door shut.
While doing those things you do while in the restroom he wondered with some amusement at how odd it might be if he got locked in the bathroom. As it turns out, life obliged his silly thought and when he went to turn the knob he discovered himself thouroughly locked in. This seemed to be the only natural thing since he’d just thought about it.
After a bit of panic and stupid questions like “Did you turn the knob?” and “Have you tried unlocking it?” someone had the good sense to call the fire brigade who, upon arrival, told Resident Brit to STAND BACK!
“Oh right. What do you want me to do? Hop in the toilet? Ok. ::ploosh ploosh:: Bang away! I’m in the toilet for Pete’s sake! Where am I going to stand back to?” The thing about being locked in… well in any place… is that as soon as they get you out everyone asks if you’re okay. When you’ve only been locked in for a total of ten minutes it makes the question seem a little silly.
“Of course I’m ok. The only thing I could have wanted to do was go to the toilet and- oh wait! Nevermind! I found one of those in the corner!”
And so the second trombone was rescued from the clutches of the toilet as I sat there in disbelief that we delayed the concert because we thought it would not have the same effect if he didn’t get in that one low F. And all the while he was fighting back the urge to murmer “Bond. James Bond” in a debonaire fashion.