A Three Dog Life

Now folks, I’m going to be as proper as I possibly can here…but this is something that just needs to be talked about.  Please forgive me if I offend you.

The subject is toileting.  Specifically, Number Two Toileting in Public Restrooms.  I am convinced that I’m not the only person in the world who has a problem doing it…who will go to any lengths (including driving 20 minutes to a friend’s house) to avoid doing it.  My previous workplace had one stall bathrooms with lockable doors!!!  I almost kept the horrible job just because of that privacy.

In my current workplace all bathrooms are doubles, and busier than a bartender on payday.  So, here’s a typical crapping experience for moi: 

Open bathroom door a crack to see if both stalls are empty.  If so, scurry into one and start praying as I drop my drawers….”Please let me get this passed before guests arrive.”  Now seated, I begin to bear down like I’m in a baby delivery contest.  Push!  Push!  Hurry!  Hurry! 

Success!!!!!  Well, partial success.  Which is to say that if I’m there to drop Jim and the kids off at the pool…one of the kids is refusing to go into the water.  And it is precisely at this moment that – you guessed it – the main door opens.

I can’t get up due to risk of dropping ‘kid’ on floor.  I don’t have enough suction power to pull ‘kid’ back into the causeway.  What do I do?  Exactly this: I lift my feet up so that the newcomer won’t be able to identify me by my shoes!  

And then I wait.  Meanwhile, the entire room is smelling like a fertilizer factory on a sunny afternoon.  I think I just heard a slight gagging noise.

My neighbor apparently has several issues to think through before attending to her business, as I hear no tinkling sounds from that direction. 

Legs are now starting to cramp.  Stuck-up ‘kid’ isn’t budging.  And neighbor may have died over there, it’s so quiet.  And now it’s time for Act Two.  Oh yessiree.  The main door opens again…and someone decides to become an audience as she leans against the wall and waits for a stall to open up. 

I must interrupt myself  for a moment and make a side comment before I forget it.  I have been conducting some research over a ten year period, and I think I can speak with a certain degree of authority here:  Skinny women flatulate at least 20 times more than overweight women while toileting!!!  The sounds those size 2 cuties make while passing gas can rival a jet breaking the sound barrier.  I’ve concluded that this is a direct result of eating nothing but raw veggies.  McDonald’s quarter pounders just don’t create the same volume of gasses.

Back to my situation.  There, of course, have been various endings to this particular scenario – but the best was when, into the total silence of that crowded restroom, my recalcitrant ‘kid’ made a decisive move.  Yes, you guessed it. 

PLOP!!!!!!  A sound that could have been heard in the parking lot.  Feeling humiliated beyond belief, I now quietly grab a handful of tissue and begin the clean-up process.  Meanwhile, pokey neighbor finally decides to make her liquid deposit; wipes and leaves.  Then, while audience member is giving her performance in the other stall, I hightail it out of mine; grab a paper towel; wet it; add soap, and run for my office where I’ll wash up in privacy.

Whew!  Just telling that story caused my anxiety levels to rise.  But I’m glad I ‘got it out’…and I hope that at least one reader will respond with a verification that I’m not alone in this shitty situation.

Thanks for listening.

P