Complete Stranger: “I love your shoes.”
Me: “Thanks.”
Complete Stranger: “I can hardly stand up straight in tennis shoes, so heels that high would be daunting for me.”
Me: Oh, really?
Complete Stranger: “Nice talking with you. Enjoy your movie.”
Me: “Thanks, you too.”
Small talk. We’ve all been there. What makes this conversation unique and uncomfortably different is that it is taking place in a public restroom. That’s right. It’s the dreaded “PUBLIC RESTROOM SMALL TALK.” (Shriek!)
I usually shrug off the public restrooms and go into “hold it” mode, but this was an emergency. I should have known there would be trouble when I observed about a half a dozen “twisters” near the entrance to the bathroom. Twisters are the folks that are noticeably in the same state that I’m in (as in they “really” have to go) and they are dancing, twisting and doing the mashed potato while they wait.
There are five stalls. There is a ‘crappy’ (yeah I said it) hand written out of order sign duct taped to one of the doors….And then there were four. One stall has a “floater” and apparently no one in this group has their floater kit. The floater kit consists of one mask (for smell), one blindfold (so you don’t have to see it), one pair of rubber boots (in case of overflow) and a rain coat (in case of splatter). I was in a hurry to see the # 1 movie in America “American Sniper”, so I too left home unprepared. And then there were three. Three stalls, all occupied.
With or without my floater kit, I cannot say for sure that I would have attempted the “floater flush” because the smell alone was making me nauseous. Heaven knows without that blindfold, I would not have made it. The line, the floater, the smell, and one broken stall wasn’t enough to force a retreat to my seat with the “I’ll just hold it” smile on my face. As if I wasn’t already overwhelmed, now, I must engage in awkward and unnecessary “public restroom small talk”.
I am not here to talk. We have a common goal here and we both know what that is. The stranger (Let’s just call her Sally) went on and on about how she was visiting from San Antonio, that she was there with her daughter and her grandbaby, blah, blah, blah, blah. I kept to the unwritten unspoken number one public restroom rule: minimal engagement. She finally forces me to do something drastic. I pulled out my phone and pretended to be texting. One word: awkward.
Just when I thought my bladder AND a blood vessel in my head would burst from Sally’s unnecessary chatter, finally, it was my turn.
I delightfully rushed away from Sally and claimed my empty stall. I did the cover, squat, kick the handle, and sanitize routine in record time. I made it back to my seat in time to see Bradley Cooper holding a fake baby. Great movie.
Nichole Deal
