Mullis: A one-hour spring break escape

During our kids’ Spring Break, we decided to try an escape room. Unlocking a room by solving clues together sounded like fun. Plus, we had a coupon for the one in Pennfield.

Break Escape shares the same cornfield as the Fear the Farm zombies. Although the undead have nothing to do with the escape room, I booked a morning session. It seemed safer.

I came to use my brain, not lose it.

I liked our odds. My son is cool under pressure. My daughter thinks outside the box. My husband is an engineer and I … can write stuff.

I can also overthink stuff. The night before I thought about how I’m claustrophobic and drink too much coffee and maybe a small, locked space with no bathroom wasn’t a good idea. I also thought about our Google-dependence and how there was no Internet in that room.

Calling up the website, I re-read the room’s description, which wasn’t much. Just a vague premise about a cabin, whose owner was a Mensa member. A person must possess an IQ in the top 2 percent to be considered for Mensa. The fact I had to Google this fact didn’t bode well.

I looked over at my family, who were watching TV while swiping screens.

I did not like our odds.

My husband told me not to worry. This was for fun. It wasn’t like anyone would be watching us. We would either get out or not.

True.

I got up in the morning and ate a good breakfast – protein, not Pop Tarts. I drank the minimum amount of coffee to be functional. I pulled on a Michigan State T-shirt to remind myself I had a bachelor’s degree. I followed my team to the car, humming the “Mission Impossible” theme.

I felt good until my team pulled into the wrong driveway and knocked at the door of some lady’s house. She gave us an exasperated smile and pointed north.

Not a good start.

The Break Escape facilitator took us to our room, the door of which was closed. There was a whiteboard next to the door, which showed the top three finishers and an 88 percent circled in black ink. My husband asked what the number represented.

“That’s the room’s failure rate.”

Oh.

The facilitator showed us different locks – some with numbers, some with letters, some with none of the above.

“Do you know how to open all of these?”

We shook our heads, so she showed us. Quickly.

“Have you ever been in an escape room before?”

We shook our heads, so she explained we had an hour to solve the scenario and open the door.

“Is this all the people in your party?”

Yep.

She shook her head as if she was 88 percent sure we weren’t going to make it.

She opened the room and pointed to the screen, where the instructions would appear once the door was locked. She said we could ask for three clues, each one of which would cost us five minutes. She told us she would be watching and listening.

What?

And then the door locked.

I felt the walls closing in and a fervent desire to use the bathroom.

“We aren’t asking for any clues,” my husband said, as we waited for the video to start.

This made me laugh. And relax.

I’m not going to tell you the details because I don’t want to ruin it for you. And I’m competitive. And we lost.

In hindsight, we should have asked for a clue.

The cool part was how we evolved as a team. We began as independent thinkers, working alone. Soon we were working off each other’s work, which yielded better results. Finally, we were working together as one, even as the clock worked against us.

As the lady watching us said, we were “so close.”

We discussed “would-haves, could haves, should-haves” for the rest of the day, already planning our next escape.