When I was a small child, about 4 or 5 years old, my father took me to eat dinner at the local Denny’s, a diner chain. I think my mother was having some sort of medical appointment and therefore it was just the two of us.
During the meal, I announced I had to use the restroom. My dad pointed the way to the ladies’ room.
I went in, used the facilities, and then tried to leave the restroom. But I couldn’t get a good grip on the door handle, which was just over my head. I kept trying, but it was no use.
I have no idea how much time actually passed (probably mere seconds) but I knew that my father and all males were forbidden from this room, so I was trapped. That’s when the tears started.
Eventually, two ladies walked in, and found me crying hysterically. They brought me back to our table.
After that, everytime we passed by Denny’s in the family car, I ducked dramatically, refusing to acknowledge the existence of Denny’s.