15 Minutes After Arriving: First International Detainment

So we get to the house around 8 PM, and since we had all eaten a light "breakfast" on the plane around 3 PM Doha time, we were all starving.  And when we are all starving, none of us can think straight...so instead of making a coherent plan, we sit around being indecisive about where we want to eat and then getting off track and then someone gets in an argument and then people wander off and take off their shoes or fall asleep sitting up or go hide in the closet.  Thank God we are not stranded on an island, as none of us would survive.

After the typical too-hungry-to-think meandering discussion, we finally decided just to go to a Subway near the house.  Two factors influenced our decision: (1) the kids would recognize the food and (2) getting to Subway did not involve substantive Doha round-abouts (traffic circles).  More on the latter another day.

So the miracle of decision has dawned upon us.  I sit down to write a "we're here and safe" 30-second email to parentals and over loved ones.  As I click send, I hear a large door click shut, a lock turn, a key jingle, and Hannah announce, "I DID IT. I DID THE LOCK."

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Those dots were me pausing for a big heaving, eye-rolling sigh even remembering this whole scene.

So this house has locks on all the interior doors (bedrooms, bathrooms, etc.).  And those locks have real-life keys, all of which are (I think) unique.  Hannah has just incarcerated herself behind a solid wood door which does not have enough space at the bottom for sliding the keys out.  No other entry to the room exists, barring some Shawshank Redemption type tunnel, but we don't have a Marilyn Monroe picture on the wall, so there must not be one. And it's 8 PM at night.  And we've just uprooted our lives.  And we've just gotten off a plane.  But it *was* business class, so I dug deep into the pit of spoiled relaxation heaped upon by those Qatar Airways flight attendants, and I started pondering the jailbreak. I eyed the hinges, which are thankfully on our side of the door, and wondering if a kitchen/butter knife will remove the pins.

Almost immediately, Hannah got the key back in the lock.  This was probably the most important miracle of them all.  She starts turning (by the way...John is downstairs waiting for us to go to Subway) and I hear clicking.  My hopes go up, but despite the clicks, the clank door refuses to open.  Minutes pass, my level of panic rises a little pondering what the alternative Alcatraz strategy is going to look like, and John starts up the stairs.

I explain what's going on, and John starts trying to get Hannah to turn the lock the right way.  He is a little panicked, too.

Then at some point, we hear more jingling of keys.  It's Jack, gone to try the lock on his own door.  After all, if Hannah can do it, why not Jack?  That's when John gets...um...a little miffed, removes the keys from Jack's possession, and escorts him rather brusquely to the couch.  Jack does not appreciate this treatment and may have started contacting the ACLU if the internets had been working.

John goes back to Hannah's turning and clicking, and I go to Hank's door to find out exactly how the locks work.  Turns out (ha ha punny, not) that one turn of the key makes the lock go 1/2 way out, so you need two full key rotations and clicks going in the same direction in order to unlock the door.

Hannah completes this GRE-type interactive quiz and is thus freed from her inaugural Qatar imprisonment.

Meanwhile, Jack is still rather angry about the handling of his indiscretion and subsequent confinement to the couch-houskow.

Thus the Small family is reunited post-pen and we proceed back on plan to the car/Subway.  On the ride to dinner, Jack announces that's very upset and in fact feels rather "violated" at the treatment he received.  I think Hannah is proud of her mad lock and key skills.