Champion of the Stall
Thursday, March 26th, 2009I pride myself on being a formidable challenger. When I go to take care of business, I get the job done. Privately. So to you would-be pansy @ss (not swearing!) gals who think you can intimidate me by your dawdling; to you I say: I’m onto you and you’d better bring it because I will wait you out. I’ve done it before. And I will do it again.
The Troll has struck again. Girlfriend can’t get enough. She just loves it in there. Which I just don’t get because honestly? It’s a BATHROOM. It’s not nice in there- there’s no couch or soft lighting or fancy hand lotions or anything. In fact, they hardly heat the d@mn thing (again, not swearing), which makes winter time extra special for us ladies. Plus, the joint smells like a bathroom because…it’s a bathroom. In this latest encounter, however, The Troll made the vague impression of having A Reason for being in there, which turned into a twenty minute odyssey.
There I was, minding my own beeswax, when the ole gal popped in for a visit. Call me the Emily Post of the stall, but you do not select a stall next to an occupied one when you can just as easily choose an available one two or three stalls down. It’s like how dudes know not to use the urinal next to another guy when there are others available. So what does The Troll do? Of course she picks the one right next to me- of course- wherein she proceeds to blow her nose, hum a song, and fumble with the toilet paper dispenser for approximately 3 minutes and 26 seconds.
Meanwhile, still trying to mind my own beeswax, I’m glaring at her through the pastel metal divider, swearing under my breath. What. The. [Redacted]?!
It is at this point that I decide that the webinar I’m in the middle of working on? Yeah, it can wait. I can wait. I will wait. Winning this small victory is far more important. And you can fake cough or fake flush or whatever the Saxby Chambliss else you think will Buy You Time because I’m not going anywhere. Do you hear that Bathroom Troll? I WILL WIN.
Finally, the toilet flushes next door and the door opens. We’re now in stage two of Her Special Bathroom Time: washing of the hands, wiping down of the counter, fixing of the hair, washing of the hands again, wiping down of the counter one last time. Victory is mine.
And then? In walks someone for her to visit with. So close.
I feel like anonymously leaving a print out on her desk of the rules according to The International Center for Bathroom Etiquette (Performing #1 and #2 in comfort and style since 1995).
….I promise I’m still not in there as we speak, but if you’ve got your own BB or iPhone with you next time (or maybe you do right now), here’s a fun little site I read about yesterday that allows you to rate the public bathroom you’re in: Sit or Squat.
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