I blame the entire day and its mishaps on Old Man Winter and his furry friend Punxsutaney Phil for withholding the pleasure of an early spring from us. Anyway, for the first time in weeks, maybe months it’s warm and sunny so, after eating a steak and egg bagel meal and drinking five gallons of coke I decide a road trip is in order.
Looking back, I should have made a pit stop and relieved myself of the impending pressure looming on the horizon. I know better. Unfortunately, my body’s craving for sunshine overruled my need to pee.
My destination – I have no fucking idea.
I drive mindlessly. Rock 104.5 WJJK Indianapolis blasts out classic rock. The sun soothes my tired mind. I’m in paradise for fifteen minutes until I hear a voice inside my head, shockingly similar to the voice of the robot of Lost in Space warning me that the situation is now a full-blown emergency.
I turn left into a large strip mall. There’s a Hobby Lobby, a pet store and other assorted merchants. The first in the vast suburban expanse is a Goodwill. It will do.
I shuffle into the store. I take extra care. I make no sudden or jarring moves. After entering the store, I continue my quest for a bathroom. My instincts led me toward the back.
I’m half way there. I have the restroom and relief in sight. An overly eager salesperson approaches. “Are you OK, sir?” She reaches for my elbow. Perhaps to guide me. Maybe, she thinks I’m mentally challenged? I push her hand away and respond, “I am not an animal.”
I shuffle away as quickly as the situation allows. Finally, I arrive. I immediately feel a sense of relief. I reach for the door and turn the handle. It’s locked. I knock. “Hey, I’m in here.” A muffled voice responds.
I wait a few minutes. It feels like an hour. The pressure builds. I jiggle the lock and knock once again. The response Includes such pleasantries as: fuck you, dumb ass and idiot.
I wait for a few moments and try the door again. It’s still locked. I need another plan and quickly. A young lady leaves the ladies restroom. It’s my only option. Immediately, I react and dive for the door.
I hold the door for a moment before committing. There’s a stigma involved. I ask myself – Are things that bad? I have to decide quickly because there’s an angry oriental woman heading toward the lady’s room full speed. Before I can close the door she yells, “Hey you…you go men room…no ladies room.” She scurries forward frantically. Her tiny legs remind me more of a chihuahua than that of a human.
Before I close the door, I smile and salute. She screams. Her slight frame makes the door shake as she slams into it. A moment passes as she recovers, then the handle shakes violently. Screams of protest follow, “Hey this lady room no men go here…” The handle shakes harder. The door shakes as she slams her small frame into it. I ignore her and focus on the relief my bladder needs, I know it’s ready to burst.
I begin the extraction. I crouch. Twist and pull. Things don’t go well. It becomes entangled. I tug. I pull. Twist and turn as the little oriental spitfire outside the door becomes further enraged and calls for a manager. “Hey…man in the lady room…Ma’am…get manager please.”
More knocking ensues. The handle rattles. The door shakes. I have to make this quick. But, I’m nervous and under pressure. I fiddle and fumble. Finally, the entanglement is overcome and I’m ready.
The door jiggles. I hear a gentle tap-tap tap. “Sir, this is the manager. I’m going to have to ask you to leave the ladies restroom right now.” I take a deep breath and…..
Nothing! I’m ready to burst and I can’t pee. I can’t take a leak in restrooms with a cattle trough and fifty dudes standing next to me either. This isn’t as bad, but the effect is the same.
A person needs some privacy…you know? “Come on…come on…” I say to myself. A knock on the door follows. Apparently, I have an audience. “Sir there’s a lady out here that needs to use the restroom. It’s an emergency. I’m going to have to ask you to leave sir…”
If I can just relax enough to get things started. I decide to sing. Maybe that will help me relax. The first song that comes into my head….”Crack that whip, Give the past a slip, Step on a crack, Break your momma’s back”
“Sir what is going on in there? Sir…” A increasingly tense voice asks. I hear screams and cat calls.
“When a problem comes along, You must whip it, Before the cream sets out too long, You must whip it, When something’s goin’ wrong, You must whip it, Now whip it, Into shape, Shape it up, Get straight.”
Nothing! I still can’t pee. I’m begin to feel pain as the audience outside the door grows louder; I hear a larger variety of voices; I hear a loud noise sounding remarkably like a large body hitting the floor; I hear screams and calls for an ambulance. At least, when my bladder explodes medical attention will be available.
Someone demands the police. I decide it’s time to leave.
I button up and open the door. Maybe the men’s room is free by now. A crowd has gathered a very large crowd. It seems that every female in town decided they have to pee at the same time as me. Just my luck.
A large rotund woman dressed like she’d just gotten off the Mayflower lies on the floor. An even larger woman fans her. It appears she fainted. Probably, the body I heard hitting the floor. I hadn’t realized I was such a great singer.
I try to slide past the crowd and slide into the men’s room. Maybe the crowd will disperse and I can make this happen.
The manager asks me to leave and informs me that the police are on the way. I consider running, but know that I can’t with a full bladder. The crazy oriental woman rushes past me screaming….”emergency…please have go…” She slams the door.
Seconds later a scream like one I’ve heard so many times before just as Freddy Kruger is about to slice up his next victim reverberates from behind the lady’s room door. Soon after I hear “Asshole…you no put seat down. I’m stuck…Fuuuucking aaaasshole I kill you…”
I laughed so hard I pee my pants. Relief, finally.
While, being led off in handcuffs the perplexed paramedics, fire-fighters and a plumber continue to work to extract the oriental woman from the toilet, whose name I learned is Jasmine. As they work to extract her from her predicament she continues to holler, “I kill you fucking asshole!”
It turns out the judge hates men that refuse to put the toilet seat down and sentences me to community service. My community service involves holding a class warning of the dangers of leaving the toilet seat up. I’m placed on a watch list of toilet seat offenders, so that women everywhere will be cautious of using toilets after me. Because I had “an accident in public” as she so gracefully put it, I’m required to undergo a battery of psychological tests and rehabilitation.
I also suspect that I’ll be seeing Jasmine, the crazy Oriental woman again…..