Saturday, November 17, 2007

Bathroom Trappings

It's not a true fixation on bathroom humor, it is honestly just my life. A couple weeks ago, I heard someone talking on a cell phone as I entered the shared bathroom at work. I was disgusted, but it is becoming more and more common these days, so I just took the far stall away from the talker. I contemplated what would have worked to finish the call maybe 18 months ago - a simple pre-emptive flush, but there are bathroom noises and she's not ending the call. As I was pulling out the toilet seat cover, I realized that I could hear both sides of the conversation not because she was loud and her cell phone was cranked up, but because she was relieving herself on speaker phone. I started to feel offended on top of disgusted, but not enough to walk up a floor to the nearest bathroom - plus by this time I was committed - seat cover in hand.

Bathroom-talker got asked where she was and she answered, "On my way to the lot."
I'm thinking, "Liar!!"
Bathroom-talker: Actually, I am in the bathroom on the way to the lot.
Man-friend: Oh?
Bathroom-talker: Ya, I better get going cause I'm on the toilet right now. (In case you're wondering, she was in progress throughout the conversation).
(Me: OMG! but silently. I decide instead of being a victim to voice my displeasure).
Me outloud: Yes, it's pretty weird to talk on speaker phone in a shared bathroom.
Bathroom-talked: Ya, I better go.
Man-friend: I love you!
Bathroom-talker: I love you!
Me: I love you too!
Man-friend: Who was that??
Me: The person a stall over in the bathroom!
Man-friend: Oh, you ARE in the bathroom! Oh my God...

Call ends nicely and abruptly. I finish washing my hands and leave not wanting to know what the person looks like. My work is done in more ways than one.

A FEW DAYS LATER, KARMA?

There isn't much to the possible karmic sequel, except to admit that I almost fulfilled my career dream of being in Lights & Sirens. I always use the bathroom between classes (an artifact of motherhood - go before you need to). I had a hard time getting the metal door latch closed to lock the stall. Note to readers... if this happens to you, do not keep trying. Find a new stall that closes easily. All was well until I tried to leave the stall about 45 seconds later. No joy. Wouldn't budge... not even with my sweater wrapped around the nob and all my large German woman muscles flexing. :-/ I contemplate crawling under the stall door, but it's low. I think I can make it, but I am always larger than I remember and in no way want to germ myself up nor my backpack. It's a new building where the stalls are small and the building would have to be on fire for me to try to crawl out.

I begin to wonder - who do you call when you're stuck on the bathroom at school? Someone in the bathroom? What could they do - the latch is one-sided anyway. I mean really, the police? Coworker? I can't imagine telling either that I am stuck in a stall at Pepper Canyon. My class is starting and I enter pre-panic phase. I decide to will the door open without any specific plan. I was eventually able to free myself (obviously I am blogging about it - what, you thought a sad ending on this one? ;) by pushing the stall walls out far enough so the door could be moved with the lock extended. Go big-boned genes! I am woman! Hear me RAWR as I run to class.

3 comments:

artlung said...

Something from two of your recent posts: a post and a twitter -- I'm mystified because if true, you've managed to conceal it really well -- are you a Mom?

Elinoire said...

Oh lord. Yesterday a coworker told me she was pretty sure the woman in the stall next to hers was reading a newspaper, but you win the "Ack, too much information!" prize. Nice job on icking out the man friend, though. ;-)

Also, I had no idea "mom" = "dark side." You go, you complex multifaceted woman, you.

comment dit-on said...

I'm so glad you got in on that cell phone call. The nerve of some people.

And way to go on freeing yourself. :)