Holy. Motherfucking. Crap.
I don't know if I mentioned this before; I am claustrophobic. As a result, I don't particularly care for small spaces like elevators, closets, etc. I tolerate them because I know that I can leave. However, if you want me to freak right the fuck out, just make it so that I cannot get out.
Today, I got stuck on the 37 degree room. I went in to put some cultures on a shaker and when I tried to exit, the door would not open. Immediately, I started to panic. I wildly yanked on the handle and pushed on that lever that is supposed to release the door. It didn't work. Suddenly, it smelled like a million liters of E. coli were growing and the temperature in the room spiked by about 10 degrees. I could feel my sanity slip, slip, slipping away.
Just before I started screaming and beating on the little window like an actual mental patient, I gave calm and collected one more try. I turned the handle and what do you know...the door opened. I got the hell out of there.
The incident is over, but I feel on edge.
I need a drink.