When dining at my grandmother’s retirement home, we typically enjoy cocktails in her apartment and then head down to the formal dining room for dinner. This means, should one need to powder one’s nose during dinner, you’ve got to use the lobby ladies room.
One Easter, when I was about 15 or 16, I excused myself from dinner and wandered down the hallway of a huge retirement home to the three-stalled lobby bathroom.
For reasons most will mock and I can’t explain, I don’t want people to know that I pee. Or at least if I do, that it makes no sound. Now, of course, I pee. Everyone does, right? And the laws of sound apply to me just as much as they do to everyone else. But seriously. I go through life attempting to imply that whenever I hit the ladies, I’m just touching up my hair. Ridiculous, yes. But true.
So when I found myself in the retirement home lobby ladies in a stall next to a blue-haired geriatric, I attempted to kill time by digging around my purse and readjusting my pantyhose, waiting for Mrs. Doubtfire to finish up and get the hell out of there so I could pee. Needless to say, she was taking her time.
Finally, I gave up my bizarre restraint and peed.
All of a sudden, from within the stall next to me, I hear an enthusiastic, “My, what a HEALTHY flow!”
Oh. My. God…