There was a time I stopped in a Friendlys with my father on my way back to college and I had to pee wicked style. I was so thankful when we stopped for lunch. I ran in past the hostess and booked it to the bathrooms. The place was set up like a giant box, no real divider walls. The ladies room was locked. The mens room was locked. I was desperate. In between there was a handicapped bathroom with both men and women represented on the front. It was open and I went in. I turned the extremely flimsy lock and knew it wasnt an awesome piece of machinery. The bad news was that the handicapped toilet was about four football tosses away from the door. I could not hope to hold it shut. I tried to believe that the restaurant would of course make sure the handicapped souls that normally used this potty would have the privacy of a latched door. I sat down. Four sodas unleashed. And then I looked up as a confused old man stumbled in to the bathroom, door flung wide open. I was able from my vantage point to look about half of the people eating their lunch in the eyeballs while I peed. I was trapped. The old man said nothing to me as I sat there. He looked from me, to the door displaying the sign and back again. In my head I just started praying that he would close the door. I really didnt care if he left or joined me at that point. If he could just make the door stop being open. Lucky me, he stumbled out and closed the door. But I had to take a chance and wipe and put everything on. The entire time, I knew I would have to commit to standing bottomless for at least a few seconds when at any point someone could swing that door open on my pasty behind. Best yet, after flushed my dignity down the crapper and washed up, my dad had already ordered. So I sat and had lunch with all the people that had witnessed the show.
Posted on: Sat, 15 Nov 2014 01:52:44 +0000
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