Haste Makes Waste: A Hilarious Story

Copyright © Arthur MacArthur

A friend of mine, a colorful character who stays in shape by swimming daily, shared a predicament he had been in recently. I thought his oddly descriptive narrative was hilarious, and his subdued manner while telling the details made it difficult to contain my laughter.

My friend wasn’t amused.

Here’s his story, as he told it to me.

You know I swim most days. During cold weather, I wear a wet suit to stay comfortable. I take very good care of my wet suit and always properly hang it up to dry, right side out.

Yesterday was a dark, dreary morning. As I slowly awoke, I suddenly remembered I had an early morning appointment. However, I didn’t want to miss my swim.

I had two choices: either skip the swim or rush to fit it in. Unfortunately, I decided to rush. It didn’t occur to me at the time that haste makes waste.

My wet suit zips up in the back. There’s a cord attached to the zipper, designed so you can reach behind your back to zip it up or down. The cord is rather short, so I have to really stretch my arm behind my back to reach it.

Barely awake, I slipped into my suit. As I was attempting to zip it up, the zipper didn’t move as smoothly as it normally did.

Eventually, I got the suit zipped nearly to the top. Then the zipper completely locked up. Try as I might, I could not move it—neither up nor down.

Reluctantly, I abandoned my hope of a swim and focused all my energy on escaping from the suit. I yanked on the cord several more times, but the zipper wouldn’t budge. I was trapped, held hostage in my own wet suit in my own home.

Time passed excruciatingly slowly.

As I struggled, I began to sweat profusely. And the more I struggled, the more profusely I sweated. It can get awfully hot inside a wet suit when you are furiously fighting to extricate yourself.

No matter what I did, I remained steadfastly encapsulated, like a prisoner in a strait jacket. The more I fought, the more I sweated, and the worse my situation seemed to become.

I wondered, How the heck had Houdini escaped from strait jackets? Such knowledge sure would come in handy now.

I continued my fledging escape antics.

Since I live alone, there was no one around to assist me. Nor was there anyone to call—at least no one I would want to actually see me in such an uncharacteristic, compromising, and demeaning predicament. After all, I was naked inside my wet suit. I was seriously becoming desperate.

I wondered, Is this how a fish or an eel or other water creature feels when captured? Or perhaps a live crab being cooked in a boiling pot?

I considered cutting my way out. I had plenty of sharp knifes in my kitchen. But wet suits are expensive and mine was nearly new. How could I escape my imprisonment without resorting to violently cutting my way out and destroying my wet suit?

I accelerated my efforts. I even tried rolling feverishly on the floor—to no avail.

I resigned myself to the fact that due to my haste, not only would I miss my swim but I’d also miss my very important appointment.

I attempted to calm myself, to think rationally and pragmatically: What is the root cause of my entrapment? Finally, I discovered the culprit! In my haste that dreary morning, I had somehow put the wet suit on inside out! Because of that, the zipper became completely wedged in a backward position.

I tried reaching up one arm of the wet suit in an attempt to grab the zipper from the inside. No luck.

The heat and sweat inside my suit were like a sauna. It was becoming almost unbearable.

I tried to consider all options to save both my wet suit and myself. I definitely was not about to walk outside in the condition I was in.

I considered again whom I might call for help. Certainly not 911. The EMTs would only laugh, finding my predicament hilarious.

I reconsidered using a knife. And again, I considered the cost of a new wet suit. So I fought on furiously as time stood still. It seemed that I’d been held captive for an eternity.

Suddenly, I was struck with a new idea: lubricate the zipper. But with what? The only thing I could locate was a nearly full bottle of olive oil. Ah, I thought, that just might do the trick.

I decided that the best place to perform this procedure was in the shower, in case some of the oil spilled on the floor. I stepped into the shower and unscrewed the bottle cap. I raised the bottle of oil over my head and attempted to pour a few drops on the zipper.

Unfortunately, just as the first few drops hit the zipper on my back, the oily bottle began to slip out of my hand, upside down. The slippery substance gushed out of the bottle, landing all over my back and the shower floor.

As I attempted to recapture the bottle, one foot slipped on the oily floor. While struggling to maintain an upright position, I struck my head on the showerhead. That’s why I have this bruise above my right eye.

Luckily, I maintained consciousness and was able to exit the shower uninjured—except for my bruised forehead—but still encapsulated.

I recomposed myself and again attempted to unzip the oily zipper. Amazingly, it began to move. I managed to get the zipper about halfway down the back of my wet suit before it locked up again. Then, by employing a variety of contorted gyrations and gymnastic maneuvers, I was able to wiggle my way out.

Despite the oily mess, I was free at last! I showered and scrubbed most of the olive oil off my body.

A close inspection of my inside-out wet suit revealed tiny pieces of skin in the zipper. A close inspection of my body confirmed that they were indeed bits of my skin—missing from my back.

I hope no one else ever experiences the discomfort and desperation of such a horrific situation.

My friend showed me the lacerations on his back and the bruise on his forehead, authenticating his misadventure.

I apologized for laughing while he recounted the grueling event to me. Yet his deadpan delivery of the story made it impossible not to laugh.

Later I asked myself, is there a lesson to be learned from his experience? Haste makes waste? Perhaps. But more importantly, always keep the right side out!

Copyright © Arthur MacArthur