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.


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.


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. :)