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| Blogs > SilyconBond > I'm a dumpster fire |
I have never been in a submarine.
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I have never been in a submarine. I imagined this door could almost resemble the one you find in one. Yet, it was square with rounded corners and looked more like a safe vault door to me. On the outside, there is a card reader to get past it. Once, your card turns the reader green on the left, you have to wait until the right side light turns green. Then you can pull it open. It has some weight to it, and it's about six inches thick was my guess, yet it swings easily most times. The tilt of the boat can prevent one person from moving it. In that case, you have to wait till the boat tilts back in your favor. On the inside, you can use a card, or type a number, then wait for the five to six seconds for the locks to move, then you open it manually. There are at least three bolts on the side edge I could see. I couldn’t get my hand around one. So my guess, is about nine inches circumference, almost a three-inch diameter lock bolt. A battering ram wouldn’t work unless you had a month to spend pounding on it. The flair/seal around the door would also hinder a ram. It has to be cut with an Oxy-acetylene, or an Oxygen lance would be my guess. I found out later there is a safeguard in the corridor to prevent high temps from being used. Not really important, but really overkill I thought. Saferoom or rather nuclear bomb room is more appropriate. When the door is fully opened, there is an electric magnet that keeps the door tight against the wall in the dead-end corridor. All the other rooms that were in corridors, the corridors went from port to starboard and have doors on each side. For this suite, you could only approach from the starboard side and walking the length of the corridor before you can walk into the suite. There were slots along one wall as you approach the suite that I never figured out what they were for. It was the only corridor in the whole ship that had them. I still have dreams of this particular door or maybe nightmares. As a “guest” I had free range onboard the boat, except this door. I hated this particular door. On the inside, there was lots of space in the private suite. Two working desks, a large sitting/longing area, the whole front wall was side by side monitors that went from floor to ceiling. It normally showed the front of the ship on the outside giving a larger perspective. Yet, you could change to look at any camera feed on the boat. The owner did that sometimes, so she could watch people perform their duties. There was a bedroom with a moveable wall and a large bathroom with a spa tub and a separate shower. I had plenty of time to look at details of the inside of the suite in the two weeks I was in it, but I’m sure I don’t know everything. It might have had more floor space than a four-bedroom apartment. Anyway, back to the door. Every night, the door was closed. For the most part, they kept the door open during the day unless the owner wanted it closed. That’s what happened to me. I had sex with the owner on the floor next to the bed. I’m leaving out a lot of details. Doesn’t matter. We were both wrapped up in the coverlet on the floor, and there was what I thought a glass of water in a cup holder on the nightstand. She was not sleeping when I drank the water. It had a slightly metallic taste but after over an hour of sex with her, I needed it. I heard her say, “Oh no!”, then I was out, really out…fourteen hours of sleep out. I didn’t know she suffered from insomnia. I didn’t know I shouldn’t drink the water. There were bottles of water in the fridge had I wanted them, but I was lazy. I woke up well into Sunday, and on the bed. The monitors showed the front of the ship, and unlike the night before where there were other boat lights, nothing but water. My clothes were gone. My cell was on the desk, my wallet was there, but not my date’s keys. I drove her car and had her keys so that worried me a little. My cell had no coverage. The suite was picked up from the night before. There was a food tray in the sitting area, so I wasn’t being starved. The closet in the suite had all women’s clothes and my stuff wasn’t there. I could feel the boat moving slightly, but I didn’t see anything out the front to cause it. I wasn’t stressing. I looked around. Looked in cabinets, pushed a few buttons on the desk, and near the bed. I ate, took a shower. For such a pricey place the water pressure was below average. I donned the pink robe that was hanging on a hook near the shower. There was no note. Nothing. I called out, “Hello!” No response and it echoed some, weird. I went to the door. I tried to open it, then I freaked out. Banging on steel with my fist got me nothing. I yelled. I tried to figure out how the fucking door worked. I had no tools, and I couldn’t see any fasteners such as screws to undo anyway even if I had a screwdriver. I didn’t know about the phone on the desk that was a disguised block of wood. I didn’t know about the switch next to the bed that called the security detail. I didn’t know about the video chat one could do from the desk itself. I just felt trapped. I know it was irrational now, but at the time I stressed out. The door was something I couldn't figure out, at least at that moment. There were no portholes. I hadn't been shown the way to talk to people outside this room yet, but I felt closer to death than my years in the military. Nothing to pry against, nothing to make into a tool to use to escape. Hopelessness settled upon me. The couch was bolted to the floor, as were the metal inlaid desks, and bed. The hangers were fucking plastic, but what good were they? All the perfume bottles on the counter were plastic too. I pulled a monitor away from the wall, and guess what, solid steel like wall. This was the closest I had been in a prison cell and I hated it. My brain played tricks on me like if the boat sank, I couldn't get out. I kept pacing back and forth, but always ending in a trance looking at that fucking door that I got into this room the night before. I had things I needed to do. People that needed me and I could do absolutely nothing. I understand it now, the need for such a place. Thank God I don't live my life inside that space. I have more freedom, more joy, more connections than the woman that lives her life in that space. The story I was told on why they built it made my heart cry for her. Me, I'd rather have freedom than safety. I will remember that, freedom before safety. I’ll type the rest out tomorrow if I have time.
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