...is illustrated in the spine-tingling detail below:
Now for the narrative: After about five minutes of repeatedly testing the door, searching around for a fellow human being who might help me, and looking at that those slick-rusty-filthy bars with dread fear, I screwed up the courage to go for it. I laid sideways on that slim, wet bit of ledge that supports the metal grating and wriggled my way around the outside base of the bars. To get my head thru, I had to ease downward off the edge of the balcony. On the way out the other side, I had to lower my ass and legs off the ledge into thin air.
I bring up this story of selfish heroism for two reasons: A) It scared the shit out of me, and B) the first thing I did afterward was head downstairs to the front desk to ask for a new key. So there I was, wide-eyed and wet as hell. And I said, “You wouldn’t believe what just happened to me! I accidentally locked myself out of that corner room on the top floor—you know it, don’t you? tell me you do, you sick son-of-a-#^$*!—and my only way to escape was to crawl around the underside of that @$&%! prison-bars-barrier you guys have going up there! I thought I was gonna kill myself!”
His answer: Pause. “Uh. Yeah.” Pause. “That’s an interesting story.”
So I made him come upstairs with me and I pushed him off the balcony.
BTW, in response to a few questions, I took that picture after I got back in my room. I only wish I had a video of me doin’ the escape. I swear, I was like Snake-Man! You know, like in that famous cartoon song: “Snah-ake-Man, Snah-ake-Man. Doin’ the things only a desperate hope-nobody’s-watching, slithering-weird-wet-dude, fearful-for-his-life snah-ake can!”
And then I wrote that puzzler post. And then I went to bed. Now you know everything.