I've gone to great lengths to hide the fact that occasionally, like once a year, I use the bathroom. And I finally come to terms with the fact that it is quite literally nature calling. Nothing to be ashamed of, peeing.
Melissa, Tara and I have been invited to a fancy pants dinner party at Mr. S' wine country home. Obviously, this calls for us to make a whole weekend of it and I'm writing this to you from the Hilton in Napa. Anyway, this morning the three of us headed up to Sonoma for shopping on the Square and a very leisurely lunch at The Girl and The Fig.
I had enjoyed coffee and cigarettes for breakfast, so by the time we made it to Sonoma, I was looking forward to a pit stop. The Girl and The Fig was packed, and rightly so. Everything was very grilled peaches and proscuitto on french bread outdoor lady lunch. Which meant the line for the ladies room went around the bar. Five of us blocked food service and stuffed exists as we waited for the one women's toilet.
The men's, needless to say, was vacant.
Aside from the fact that I really fucking had to pee, I felt very much in the way. The women both in front and behind me in line didn't seem particularly bothered, but then again, they were tourists. You can always spot a wine country tourist by their wine country apparel: Hawaiian shirts covered in illustrated wine labels, capri pants embroidered with dangling grape bunches, one woman wore a monstrous silver necklace that looked like she has 20 pounds of sterling cabernet grapes and leaves hanging from her neck.
She, after all, is in the California Wine Country. I personally walk around New York City in a foam Statue of Liberty crown.
Anyway, I found all five of us standing in line for this one tiny ladies room ridiculous, especially since the mahogany men's room was perfectly empty.
"Is it totally ridiculous to use the men's room?" I asked aloud. The woman first in line looked me up and down and in a tone, replied, "Go ahead. (pause.) It's not my thing."
"Well, it's definitely my thing!" I said, pushing past. "I just love using men's rooms!"
What does that mean, "It's not my thing"? Like there's two kinds of women in this world; the ones who politely wait their turn and the ones who get off on peeing in the men's room.
I was outta there before Miss Thing made it into her precious ladies room.
"How was it?" A woman further back in line asked.
"Perfectly acceptable!" I proudly announcing.
"Well, we have a man here waiting."
I passed said, smiling elderly man on my way back to my girls.
"I'm so sorry, sir." I screamed in full earshot of the disapproving group. "Going to the men's room is just my thing!"
Clearly I'd found a kindred pee spirit. The old dude winked at me...