They’ll Huff, And They’ll Puff, And They’ll Moan Their Way In

(During a multiple-day family reunion, we go to the swimming pool. A few days earlier I seriously sprained my ankle, and the day before I was on crutches, and I still have a large brace on my ankle. I am also menstruating and have a tampon in. Luckily, the water makes me able to walk easily in the pool without the brace. We get out and go to change our clothes. Because I’ll need to put a new tampon in, and because I’ll need to put on a bulky ankle brace, I use one of the family/handicapped changing rooms rather than a stall, but there are five empty family rooms, so there are enough for everyone. The rooms are numbered. I am starting to do the intricate straps on my brace when I hear someone trying to open the locked door.)

Me: “In a minute!”

(They continue to attempt to open the door and pound on it.)

Me: “I’m almost done. Hold on!”

Woman: “I need this room.”

Me: “I’m almost finished.”

Woman: “I need it!”

Me: “I’m just putting my shoes on!”

Woman: “You don’t understand! He’s very particular about numbers!”

Me: “Sorry! I’ll be out in a second.”

(My ankle is swollen and the brace is bulky, so I have some trouble getting my shoe on. All the while, this woman is legitimately trying to break down the door. I finally finish, and open the door. The woman looks at me, looking up and down my body.)

Woman: “You don’t even have a kid with you.”

Me: “No, I don’t.”

(I figured that she probably had a child with her who was autistic or similar, and I understand that sometimes there’s no reasoning with a developmentally disabled child in meltdown. But I don’t know what she expected me to do, or how breaking down the door was the solution.)