Bathroom Banter

Recently, I was in a public restroom that had several stalls on either side of a long aisle.

It was crowded with lots of flushing and doors opening to welcome another visitor.

There was an obviously broken toilet on the right side with a large black plastic bag covering it, but women kept peering in before they realized it was not usable. If it were me, I’d have an “Out Of Order” sign on the door and taped it shut…oh well.

I was next up in the (not-very-long) line when a young woman, maybe in her early twenties, swooped in with a flourish of her long trendy coat, high heels, and designer handbag — way WAY overdressed for the setting of a public lavatory. I could smell the entitlement wafting off of her.

Impatiently, and with a pompously demeaning tone in her voice, she turned to me and asked, “Is there a line?”

(Let me back up a wee bit and explain my response–I was tired, recovering from a horrible upper respiratory infection– not Covid–and her “I’m definitely more important than anyone else” attitude simply rubbed me the wrong way.)

I repeated her question slowly, “Is there a line? — looked around and responded, “No, obviously I’m just standing here so I can meditate for a minute before I urinate.”

I then pointed to the stall door (the broken toilet) that was ajar and said, “There’s an opening. Go for it.”

And then I confess that I laughed to myself as she flounced in, only to immediately discover that the toilet was out of order. (Heehee)

Admittedly, this wasn’t indicative of my very best self, but it was so satisfying to put that haughty and pretentious little girl in her place, to maybe take her down a notch or two as she went to the back of the line.

No cuts! Wait your turn!

And namaste…

P.S. Lest anyone think I am always this snarky- whenever there’s a child or someone pregnant, the unwritten bathroom code is to allow them to go first, but that was NOT the case here.