I am a wierdness magnet.

I was hanging out at a Resident's Corner just around to block from where Gloria stays, and was merrily running a combat scene for Gloria, Wen and Gee and generally minding my own business (an unfortunate turn of phrase, as you will soon see) when...

...we heard a scream from the toilet round the corner. It turns out that a 10-year old PRC boy was trapped in the toilet. The knob fell off as he was coming out.

Comedy of errors ensues.

My group of friends, who fancied themselves professional criminals, started working out solutions and just as quickly discarding them. The door was one of those solid wooden doors and opens outwards. (No banging down doors). Grove of the latch faces inwards (no credit cards). Lock is a tumbler lock, not a single latch (no lockpicks, though paper clips were used). Ventilation windows were about 3 meters high, and the entire opening was 10-12 inches wide, TOPS (no climbing in and banging down door).

After a bit of mental facepalming and realising I've no inkling where the Resident Committee is, I decided to outsource the job. I called the police.

Lesson learnt - it's always a good idea to outsource to people who actually know what they are doing.

Of the three policemen, two did not speak Mandarin, and one spoke Mandarin haltingly. And of all the people to send to find the Resident's Committee they send...the one that speaks Mandarin.

By this time, the young boy's reached a panicked stage and his screams have attracted the neighbourhood vultures. A bunch of old aunties watch and offer perfectly logical yet absolutely useless advice ("Put the knob back lar!" / "Got call his mother or not?") More mental facepalms.

In the meantime, Gee and I start asking about the possibility of a locksmith being brought in. The response? "Public property lar. No one's life is in danger or hurt." Visions of waiting 24 hours for something bad -to- happen before locksmith is brought in.

Response on further probing. "We can lar, but the charge will have to be borne by his mother."

Wow. Would you like some insult with that injury sir?

After trying to calm the boy down by yelling through a large thick wooden door, we finally get it into our heads to call the boy's parents. Neighbourhood vultures are asked about phone numbers. Lone brave friend responds and the mother is called. Attempts by policeman to converse in English fails miserably. Gee and I called in as translators. Gee eventually gets foisted with the job because I was lazy. Hilarity ensues when Gee realises how rusty his Mandarin was.

At this stage Gloria yells at the boy to shut the f**k up cos he was getting on our collective nerves. Gloria promptly gets taken aside and laughed at. Our conversation went something like...

"First crisis?"

"Yar. First crisis."

-sagely nod-

"Okay, you go sit down."

While distracted by Gloria, the old "Put back the knob" Auntie marches up and promptly attempts to yank the door open. Right. So a bunch of police, a small squad of children, 4 young adults haven't been able to force the door open, but Auntie is? More mental facepalms. After politely telling her that the door's -less- likely to open if she damages the lock, she backs off and returns to milling and offering useless advice.

When the Resident Committee member finally arrives with the key, a long explanation about how the boy inside probably panicked and yanked too hard was given. First try, lock jammed. Deep inhalation. Second try. Lock still jammed. Mild panic ensues. Third try, door opens and self-satisfied smug look appears.

Visions of suing the Resident Committee are supressed, and all was back to normal. All in all, great fun!