Only Women Could Understand...
When you have to visit a public toilet, you usually find a line of women, so you smile politely
and take your place. Once it's your turn, you check for feet under the stall doors. Every stall
is occupied. Finally, a door opens and you dash in, nearly knocking down the woman leaving the
stall.
You get in to find the door won't latch. It doesn't matter, the wait has been so long you are
about to wet your pants! The dispenser for the modern 'seat covers' (invented by someone's Mum,
no doubt) is handy, but empty. You would hang your bag on the door hook, if there was one, but
there isn't - so you carefully, but quickly drape it around your neck, (Mum would turn over in
her grave if you put it on the FLOOR!), yank down your pants, and assume ' The Stance.'
In this position your aging, toneless thigh muscles begin to shake. You'd love to sit down, but
you certainly hadn't taken time to wipe the seat or lay toilet paper on it, so you hold 'The
Stance.'
To take your mind off your trembling thighs, you reach for what you discover to be the empty
toilet paper dispenser. In your mind, you can hear your mother's voice saying, 'Honey, if you
had tried to clean the seat, you would have KNOWN there was no toilet paper!' Your thighs shake
more.
You remember the tiny tissue that you blew your nose on yesterday - the one that's still in
your bag. (Oh yeah, the bag around your neck, that now, you have to hold up trying not to
strangle yourself at the same time).. That would have to do. You crumple it in the puffiest way
possible. It's still smaller than your thumbnail.
Someone pushes your door open because the latch doesn't work. The door hits your bag, which is
hanging around your neck in front of your chest, and you and your bag topple backward against
the tank of the toilet. 'Occupied!' you scream, as you reach for the door, dropping your
precious, tiny, crumpled tissue in a puddle on the floor, lose your footing altogether, and
slide down directly onto the TOILET SEAT. It is wet of course.
You bolt up, knowing all too well that it's too late. Your bare bottom has made contact with
every imaginable germ and life form on the uncovered seat because YOU never laid down toilet
paper - not that there was any, even if you had taken time to try. You know that your mother
would be utterly appalled if she knew, because, you're certain her bare bottom never touched a
public toilet seat because, frankly, dear, 'You just don't KNOW what kind of diseases you could
get.'
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 your butt and runs down your legs and into your 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 this point, you give up. You're soaked by the spewing water and the wet toilet seat. You're
exhausted. You try to wipe with a gum wrapper you found in your pocket and then slink out
inconspicuously to the sinks. You can't figure out how to operate the faucets with the
automatic sensors, so you wipe your hands with spit and a dry paper towel and walk past the
line of women still waiting.
You 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 your shoe. (Where was that when you 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 toilet. Annoyed, he asks, 'What took you so long, and why is your bag
hanging around your neck?'
This is dedicated to women everywhere who deal with a public rest rooms/toilets (rest??? You've
GOT to be kidding!!). It finally explains to the men what really does take us so long. It also
answers their other commonly asked questions about why women go to the restroom/toilets in
pairs. It's so the other gal can hold the door, hang onto your bag and hand you Kleenex under
the door!
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