Please forgive the interruption yesterday, when I opened the door abruptly, shouting
IS ANYONE IN HERE?
I did knock first, but a knock-n’-yell is not normal behavior from anybody except for the employee responsible for spritzing the urinal And thankfully this potty doesn't fall under my jurisdiction.
Anyway. I knocked loudly and called out IS ANYONE IN HERE? Because this made sense to me at the time. In hindsight I don't know what response I expected from IS ANYONE IN HERE?
At which point you turned your head to the door and we made eye contact through the hinge.
“Just one person” said 5.5 with his head in the door, seeing what I couldn’t. Likely seeing the very thing I wanted desperately to protect him from—a completely innocent man peeing, but by nature of existing in a men’s room habitat a potential pedophile.
I stood there with the door ajar for quite some time deciding what to do. Do I interfere with his autonomy and right to privacy with mandatory Ladies Room sentencing? Or do I blindly subject him to GodForbidWhat with the Boy Scouts or Kiwanis or Shriners or whatever secret men's room society?
Mister, I realize you don’t give a damn. Sorry, I promised myself I’d keep this brief.
Every man turns into a potential threat in a public restroom. I’ve decided the only way I can protect my son is to convince every male inside the restroom that there is one seriously ass-kickin’ mama waiting outside the door, ready to pounce at the first whiff of trouble (entirely different from the first troubling whiff, mind you).
OKAY I shouted, as you prayed for me to shut the door so you could get over your stage fright and continue your business
OKAY. OKAY. GO! Go BUT I AM RIGHT HERE. I AM STANDING RIGHT OUTSIDE THIS VERY DOOR IF YOU NEED ME. IF I HEAR ANYTHING. OKAY? Okay. FIVEPOINTFIVE ARE YOU OKAY? ARE YOU FINISHED?
“I’m okay” responded a small voice from within the stall.
I breathed deeply and prayed a prayer for brevity (oh please dear lord on high, let him only pee. No poops. No poops. No protracted poops. Just wipe-n-go. One clean wipe if he must. Only if he must Your Holiness)
FIVEPOINTFIVE?!?
I heard flushing. I heard hand-washing. I did not hear time for sufficient soapage, but germs were farther down the list of GodForbids in this particular circumstance.
Okay, Mister. I'll wrap it up. Sorrysorrysorry.
And then, after FivePointFive returned safely to the fold I noticed…
The family restroom. Clean. Available.
Dear, Dear Mister. I too felt awkward as you hurried out the door. And, yes, again, as we crossed paths in Stationery. Do you scrapbook? I’m just curious. I might feel better about this if you scrapbook.
I change my mind. I feel much much more suspicious of scrap-bookers in this situation and in the world in general. Come to think of it.
Anyway Mister, next time we’ll use the Family Restroom.
Onwards and Upwards (or preferably Inwards and Downwards)
Ann
p.s. Marinka's Street Rules inspired this post.
Monday, September 28, 2009
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