Dancing Queen

Well, my dear readers, we've reached the third story about those days when Grandma (great) Manya was young, not only in the soul but also in the body. And it was this that fact became the culprit of the events described below.

I hope you remember my great-grandfather Mitya injured his leg at the beginning of the Second World War, and his further physical activity was quite limited. In particular, for example, he couldn't dance. It's not that dancing was particularly relevant during the war. But after victory, people wanted to live life to the fullest. Manya was no exception. She loved to dance, wanted to dance, and she danced. It's not difficult to guess that Mitya, for obvious reasons, didn't attend such events. And he didn't endorse Manya's passion for dancing.

Once, when Manya once again decided to go to the dance, she and my great-grandfather had a slight quarrel. The reason was classic: she demanded her husband go with her, who, in turn, didn't see the point in this and insisted his wife stay at home. Of course, Manya won. At least if the victory is credited to the one who slammed the door like the last word.

So she went to the dance. But it's not about how much fun she had there. Events that happened after played a more significant role.

In those years, it wasn't customary to dance all night. The event lasted until midnight, and the distance to the dance floor was relatively short. Thus, even with the most careless calculations, Manya should have been home at half past midnight. But she wasn't at home. She wasn't there even at one in the morning. Her eldest daughter, Svetlana, was reading late into the night and waiting for her mother. She became worried and woke up her father. However, he (because he was furious) said he categorically refused to look for his wife. So, the eldest daughter got dressed and went in search by herself.

Fortunately, Svetlana knew very well the route Manya had to take home, and it wasn't difficult for her to walk quickly and find her mother. Manya was okay. She was safe and sound but had absolutely no opportunity to return home. All because her head got stuck in the gate of one of the passage yards.

So, firstly, it's necessary to explain (in case you don't know) that a passage yard is a courtyard of an apartment building that you can enter on one street and exit on a parallel (and sometimes even perpendicular) street. In Odessa, such courtyards are a dime a dozen. And, if you know about their existence, you can easily shorten the path. This is what Manya wanted to do.

The second thing you should know is that when my great-grandmother was young, every yard had a janitor. He cleaned this yard, kept order, and, at a specified time, closed the gates at night. This is something that Manya didn't take into account.

Now, having these input data, we can look at the situation from the outside. Manya was returning home from dancing. She decided to take a shortcut through one of the passage yards. On the side of one street, the gate wasn't closed, and the great-grandmother safely got into the yard, but on the side of the other street, the gate was locked with a chain. The simple and correct solution would be to go back and take the long way. But we're talking about Manya. She didn't look for simple solutions. And she decided she would crawl between two gate wings connected by a chain.

Primarily, she stuck her head, and it was a success. The head came through. Then she tried to squeeze further, and it turned out that this was impossible. Then Manya decided to pull out her head and go around, but the trouble was, her head didn't want to go back.

It is worth noting that most of these gates had a doorbell for residents who were out on a spree. You ring the doorbell, wake up the janitor, and he opens the lock. But Manya was stuck in the middle and couldn't physically reach this doorbell. She could have called for help, but she was ashamed.

So. Summer. Night. Moon. Not a single living soul. Manya stood with her head in the gate for about an hour before Svetlana found her. She rang the doorbell, and an angry and sleepy janitor came out. But as soon as he saw what was happening, his spirits rose. When the janitor stopped laughing, he opened the lock and set Manya free.

What lesson do you think Grandma (great) Manya learned from this incident? That's right, none. When she recalled this story, she liked singing the tunes from the dance floor. And when I asked her about the gate, she said, "It was summer, it was warm. And I wouldn't have stood there for long. The wipers were already on their feet at four in the morning. Not like now."