To The Sound of a Roaring Crowd

After having visited the shore for vacation, I began reminiscing about some of my favorite beach memories from when I was a child.  I can remember how the walk to the beach seemed to take forever or how the upside down roller coaster was so intimidating. Several memories stand out more poignantly than others.  This is one of them.  When I was younger, my parents and I would vacation at North Wildwood, NJ.  My mom and I used to stay down for an entire month in the summer.  It was really a fun, special time.  During one month-long excursion, when I was in middle school, we headed to the "boards" to shop, play, and ride.  They had just put in some new public restrooms, which were very much needed.  Everyone knows how ladies' rooms never seem to be big enough.  We decided to make a pit-stop before heading to Morey's Pier.  Nothing unusual at first.  The bathroom was bright and inviting, having just been constructed, painted, and cleaned.  However, once I emerged from my stall, I knew something was not right.  My mom and I washed our hands, glanced briefly in the mirror, and made our way to the exit.  As we approached the only way in and out, we noticed the entrance/exit door, which had previously been propped open, was shut.  Another bathroom patron was standing next to it, holding up some slats in front of the one tiny window.  Apparently, when the door was closed, the single window closed too.  Genius.  We came to realize that we, my mom, 3 other women, a younger child, and myself were locked in the bathroom.  Since this was prior to the age of the cell phone, someone had to call out to a passerby and inform them of our situation.  Fire trucks, police cars, and EMTs showed up within minutes with lights flashing and sirens booming.  One of the "bathroom six," as we soon called ourselves, began to have an anxiety attack.  The little girl with us was frightened.  Our calm and collected demeanors were fading fast.  Meanwhile, outside, different teams of people were trying to figure out how to get us out.  The first idea was to use a firefighter's ax and chop the door down.  All six of us gathered into one stall, huddled together for cover, and hoped that shards from the door would not make it all the way to the last stall.  However, city officials wanted the least amount of damage done to the new restroom, so that was out.  Next, it was suggested that we climb up through a skylight window in the roof.  This was rejected since one of the trapped maidens was a rather large woman and might not fit through the opening.  The third solution ended up being the right one:  we were going to crawl out through a grate in the front door.  After 3 hours of being stranded in the bathroom with 4 strangers and waiting patiently as they unscrewed 60 bolts in the door, we finally emerged on all fours onto the boardwalk to the sound of a roaring crowd under the bright lights of fire trucks and rescue teams.  The spectacle caught everyone's attention, even that of a local newspaper writer.  The next day, we made front page!  When we went back up to the boardwalk several days later, we saw that the entrance/exit door to the bathroom had been removed.  I'd like to think that somehow, in some weird way, we left our mark on Wildwood's boardwalk that night.  Our legacy:  door-less public bathrooms.