The bathroom backrooms

 I got lost at the hotel, I needed to use the bathroom. The decor inside the entryway seemed fifty years older than the hotel. With black wooden panels and along the passage, the odd big wooden box with yellow wooden grain.
I found myself inside a corridor that resembled the back stage of a studio. There was no uniformity. 
There were men and women seated on makeshift benches deep in conversation. They couldn't sense me at all. Looking out vacantly when I shouted. 
The corridors opened up into a chamber of bathroom cubicles, there were some more people seated inside next to the handbasins, just reading magazines. Were they hiding from the world?
Did they come to this strange dimension for solace.
I no longer needed to use the bathroom. I felt as if I had at some point left earth and now I was somewhere that shouldn't exist. I tried to retrace my steps back to where I had entered the bathrooms. I passed all of the familiar areas on my back. Where I believed the entry to be, was a waiting room with two gossiping women. It seemed they were talking about people who had passed through. 
Their voices would change slightly from normal female human voices to chickens clucking furiously and accusingly. I spotted a turnsyle, definitely an exit. I jumped over it into an alley, i could see sunlight and vegetation meters away. Cobwebs the strength of wire held me back. Strange bonds that held me from making my exit.
And all I could hear was furious clucking and electric guitar riffs, the cobwebs were vibrating like guitar strings, reverberating my heartbeat, anxieties and clandestine fear in sudden flicks and flims.
The strings got tighter and I thought I'd die, but all that happened was the clucking and the guitar music harmonized. I could feel my body transform into the turnstyle itself. I was becoming a turnstyle and a queue of rambunctious people was forming.
The sign above me said -welcome all gossip mongers, what a way to spend eternity.