Upon wanting more privacy and her personal space, Steph bought a new lock for her door. When trying to figure out which way the latch went, Alle decided to test it first hand. There was a 50/50 chance she'd get it right. Did she? No, she did not. The result: No way out. No way to open it from the inside. The metal was in lock position with no handle to turn it. We are not kidding.
Lying on the floor of Steph's room laughing our guts out but beginning to panic, we wonder, how the hell are we going to get out of here? We have to pee. The keys are downstairs. Our doors are locked. No one can help us. Any necessary tool for escape is also located downstairs. Along with Alle's phone. All we have is a flat head screwdriver. Luckily, Steph's bedroom has a ghetto fabulous door, with vents on both the top and bottom.
After deciding they were too short to go through the top, Alle decided we should take off the bottom vent. Problem: there was a vent on each side, and we had no way of unscrewing the other side. Result: pushing the vent out with all of our might, breaking Steph's door a tad bit. Next problem: Alle: Larger shoulders than Steph, boobs the size of coconuts. Steph proceeded to wriggle her body through the vent, getting trapped briefly due lack of leverage. She was in limbo. After a scratch to the leg, we realize there is more to the world than Steph's bedroom. As Alle passes the doorknob through the gaping hole in Steph's door, the knobs connect from either size, only to find out it was initially backwards.
Result: Alle tastes clean, circulating air for the first time in more than 16 minutes, and Steph has a lock. We rejoiced my friends... we rejoiced.
