I’m away from home for work… again. This time, I’m in a place completely unfamiliar to me. At one point today, I had to do what all people who are staying adequately hydrated have to do and began to look for the facilities. I remembered passing them on my way into the work area and headed that way.
When I got there, I looked up at the signs, verified I was entering the ladies’ room, and entered. To my right was a urinal with the water still running as if someone had just finished using it. I wondered first, Does it run continuously? Seems like a waste of water. And second, Why is it in the ladies room anyway?
At that point, I made the wise decision to step outside and check the door again. Sure enough, it was the ladies’ room. Maybe there didn’t used to be a ladies’ room, I thought. It’s a semi-old building. Maybe they converted a men’s room. Something about that didn’t sit right with me, but, hey, I had checked the sign.
I then approached a stall door and discovered it was to a shower, not a toilet. I tried the other and entered. There were magazines and newspapers on the floor, which struck me as odd. That seemed like something more likely to be found in the men’s room. But, hey, I had checked the sign.
It occurred to me as I lowered my pants and sat down that perhaps the men in the building used both bathrooms. Or maybe used the ladies’ room because of some deficiency in the men’s. Then I reminded myself that plenty of women worked in the building too so surely that wouldn’t happen.
Before I was done, I heard the door open and I froze. You just have to stay put and wait it out if it’s actually a guy… But how will I know without opening the stall door? … Ok, just wait until whoever it is leaves. Are they still there? I don’t hear anything.
And then the waterfall started. I turned beet red and tried to pull my feet out of view of the stall door. You just have to wait it out. He doesn’t know it’s a woman in the stall.
And then it was silent. I mean, completely silent. I didn’t hear the person zipping his pants. Or WASHING HIS HANDS. Or exiting the room. Now what? I thought to myself. Is he still in here or not? How long do I wait? Was there ever anyone in here or am I just crazy? Maybe that urinal just runs periodically. Maybe that wasn’t urine flooding into the urinal. Maybe it was just the flush malfunctioning. But something told me that it had, indeed, been a man peeing. A stealth ninja peeing. A stealth ninja with poor hygiene peeing. Maybe he’s standing there, waiting to catch the stupid woman he sensed was in the men’s room. BUT IT’S NOT THE MEN’S ROOM!
I finally convinced myself that I did need to leave the stall. It might as well be now. I was prepared with an indignant defense about it being the ladies’ room, urinals aside, but fortunately, the room was empty. I washed my hands and exited.
Just to confirm to myself, I checked the door again. And did a double take. When did the stick figure lose her skirt? How did I make this mistake?! I scurried down the hall, lest anyone see me anywhere near the men’s room. And then worried as I walked back into work that my mystery man might recognize my sneakers and snicker.
In my defense, that stick figure bathroom guy had his legs spread out, instead of straight down like all the other self-respecting stick figure bathroom guys. And when you are bleary-eyed and tired, those angled legs look a lot like the angle on the skirt of the stick figure bathroom gal. I’m pretty sure the guy was being deliberately deceptive and pulled his legs back together after I walked away. Jerk.