Toilet Tales

Yesterday I had to go to a big meeting in Greensboro. I was at some big Hotel with a bunch of conference rooms. During the break, I was standing in a lengthy line for the ladies’ room. I had to pee so bad I was crossing my legs and standing on my tip-toes, cursing all the water I had been drinking because 64 oz of water doesn't fit very well in a bladder with a 2 tablespoon capacity. The door to the men’s room opened, and a man walked out. I looked at the pregnant woman behind me.

“I’ll watch the door for you if you want to use the other restroom,” I offered.

She dashed inside.

A pudgy teen ambled up to the men’s restroom. “Someone’s in there,” I volunteered.

He sighed heavily and leaned against the wall. His jeans drooped below his waist and puddled over his shoes. His hair was kinky-curly and obscured most of his face. The Circle Jerks design on his t shirt was so faded I could barely make it out.

The bathroom door opened and the pregnant woman came out. “Thanks,” she said.

“Apparently your big belly interferes with your ability to read,” the teenager sneered, as he rudely pushed passed her.

I was in shock, but not for long.

“Look here,” I said, blocking his way into the bathroom. “Women spend their lives standing in line to use the toilet. Men rarely have to wait. It’s one of the benefits of having a penis, and you should be thankful, not rude.”

He ignored me and went into the restroom. I don't know what happened, maybe I have been unwittingly exposed to some new chemical in all the water I've been drinking, but I lost it!

I went and confronted the kid THROUGH THE BATHROOM DOOR!

“You don’t know the misery of squatting over a dirty toilet with a purse in one hand and a coat in the other, hurriedly trying to wipe, while your quadriceps scream in anguish. You can pee anywhere, standing up, without needing toilet paper. So I guess you haven’t experienced that sinking feeling women get when they’ve already peed and then discover there’s no tissue. It’s even worse when there’s no one in a neighboring stall to spare a square. You have to rustle through your purse looking for something absorbent– a used kleenex, a minipad– once I used an old Food Lion receipt!” I banged on the door for emphasis. There was no response.

Just then the sweet little old lady who had just come out of the women's room said to me “Honey, it’s your turn." This brought me crashing back to earth and I slinked or slunked into the bathroom.

I went in and beheld a wondrous sight.

The door had a hook for my purse and my coat and the door stayed locked, so I didn’t have to sit with one foot pressed against the door for privacy. I sat comfortably and my bladder was happy again. It was a marvelous public bathroom experience.

I don’t really want to be a man, but when it comes to the bathroom inequality situation, I have a chip on my shoulder.

Or something much bigger, Bruce Banner watch out, there is more than one Incredible Hulk in town.

As I walked out of the bathroom having returned to my normal state of sanity (that's not saying much) I caught the eye of another woman and she gave me a Thumbs up and we both had a good laugh as I walked away.