I got this in an email today from my terrific friend Carolyn. I laughed so hard that I just had to share it here. Plus, since the last post must have rattled a few of you...only brave Aaron dared to comment...I thought it might be nice for some comic relief. Enjoy.
When women have to visit a public bathroom, they usually find a line of women, so we smile politely and take our place. Once it's our turn, we check for feet under the stall doors. Every stall is occupied.
Finally, a door opens and we dash in, nearly knocking down the woman leaving the stall. We get in to find the door won't latch. It doesn't matter, the wait has been so long we are about to wet our pants!
The dispenser for the modern "seat covers" (invented by someone's Mom, no doubt) is handy, but empty. One would hang her purse on the door hook, if there were one, but there isn't - so we carefully but quickly drape it around our neck, (Mom would turn over in her grave if we put it on the FLOOR!), yank down your pants, and assume "The Stance."
In this position, our aging, toneless thigh muscles begin to shake. We'd love to sit down, but we certainly hadn't taken time to wipe the seat or lay toilet paper on it, so we hold "The Stance."
To take our mind off our trembling thighs, we reach for what we discover to be the empty toilet paper dispenser. In our mind, we can hear our mother's voice saying, "Honey, if you had tried to clean the seat, you would have KNOWN there was no toilet paper!" Our thighs shake more.
We remember the tiny tissue that we blew our nose on yesterday - the one that's still in our purse. That would have to do. We crumple it in the puffiest way possible. It is still smaller than our thumbnail.
Someone suddenly pushes open our stall door because the latch doesn't work. The door hits our purse, which is hanging around our neck in front of our chest, and we and our purse topple backward against the tank of the toilet.
"Occupied!" we scream, as we reach for the door, dropping our precious, tiny, crumpled tissue in a puddle on the floor, lose our footing altogether, and slide down directly onto the TOILET SEAT.
It is wet, of course
We bolt up, knowing all too well that it's too late. Our bare bottom has made contact with every imaginable germ and life form on the uncovered seat because WE never laid down toilet paper - not that there was any, even if we had taken time to try.
By this time, the automatic sensor on the back of the toilet is so confused that it flushes, propelling a stream of water like a fire hose against the inside of the bowl that sprays a fine mist of water that covers our butt and runs down our legs and into our shoes. The flush somehow sucks everything down with such force that you grab onto the empty toilet paper dispenser for fear of being dragged in too.
At that point, you give up.
We're soaked by the spewing water and the wet toilet seat. We're exhausted. We try to wipe with a gum wrapper we found in our pocket and then slink out inconspicuously to the sinks. We can't figure out how to operate the faucets with the automatic sensors, so we wipe our hands with a dry paper towel and walk past the line of women still waiting. We are no longer able to smile politely to them.
A kind soul at the very end of the line points out a piece of toilet paper trailing from our shoe. (Where was that when we needed it??) You yank the paper from your shoe, plunk it in the woman's hand and tell her warmly, "Here, you just might need this."
As you exit, you spot your hubby, who has long since entered, used and left the men's restroom. Annoyed, he asks, "What took you so long, and why is your purse hanging around your neck?"
This is dedicated to women everywhere who deal with a public restroom
(rest??? you've got to be kidding!!).And it also explains to the men what really does take us so long. It also answers their other commonly asked question about why women go to the restroom in pairs.
It's so the other gal can hold the door, hang onto your purse and hand you Kleenex under the door!!