Even though I said that so much here in Israel is open (see what I wrote here for reference), I’ve had a few experiences with things being closed, or difficulties with closing.
Not stores–they’re accepting my money all the time.
Like the doors that only close or lock a certain way and you have to figure out exactly what that is. Like the door in my room in the Jerusalem apartment; you have to pick it up and hold it while locking it. Oh,that is the outside door, that leads to the porch, that leads to the enclosure with the washing machine. (Apparently, that’s where many people put their washing machines because there’s not a lot of room inside. But the dryer is in the hallway. That does not seem to be normal.) And the door to my daughter’s mamad room, which serves as the study/guest room, has to be slammed in a certain very hard way to close.
Which brought me to how I closed the door to the room I stayed in for Shabbat in Efrat. My daughter’s apartment was full with our other daughter’s family, so my son and family and I stayed in a neighbor’s empty place. Lovely–first floor–no steps for Shabbat (although I do not huff and puff going up the five floors as much anymore, unless I’m carrying babies or suitcases or packages). I was staying in their mamad, so I went to close the door in order to change to take a shower, and it closed right away.
That should have been the signal that something was wrong.
I could not open the door.
It was getting very close to Shabbat. We had gotten to Efrat very late in the first place; I had not showered; I really didn’t want to wait to figure out how to get out.
I called my son for help. He tried opening it from the outside. He went to get help.
Oh how secure I felt in my protected room.
I looked at the window–maybe I could crawl out that way. After all, it was open.
It was a drop down to the apartment yard below. Did anyone have a ladder?
Well, I had some water, some cashews, some pumpkin seeds. I wouldn’t starve. I would probably go stir-crazy, though.
How many thoughts went through my head for what felt like an eternity, but not long enough for me to panic.
Help came in the form of a neighbor, who pushed and pulled and opened it. He said it would be better not to close it.
You didn’t have to tell me twice.