A MOVING EXPERIENCE

Okay, so it's a dive bar and one can't expect the bathrooms to be perfection.  It had indoor plumbing, so in that regard I was happy.  

When nature did a big shout-out to me Wednesday night (see previous blog), I had no trouble finding the ladies restroom even though there was no sign marking its location--mainly because women kept coming and going like flies to this one particular door in the back room where our group was seated at the Senior Citizens' Table, away from the younger, hipper crowd.  Up two steps and in.  I was only drinking water and could handle it.

But once I was inside, I couldn't find a light switch.  Where the heck was it?  I groped around on the wall and grimey door frame.  Suddenly the lights came on magically all by themselves.  How'd that happen? Automatic.  How impressively amazing for such an amazingly unimpressive joint.  

Next challenge, locking the door.  Press in the knob?  No.  Latch?  None.  Automatic?  I don't think so.  Since the room wasn't exactly palatial-sized, I could use my left hand to keep the door shut and use my right hand to hold my pants out of the line of fire because there was NO WAY I was actually going to be so bold as to sit down on the toilet rim from hell. "Careful now. You're miles from home and didn't bring a change of clothes."  If someone broke through my hold on the door, those left at the Senior Citizens' Table were going to view a moon shot like none other.  Could the guys handle that?  Probably not.

Lucky for me there was toilet paper nearby and the toilet flushed without overflowing. Had I dribbled on my capri pants? I don't think so. Mission accomplished! When I got back to the Senior Citizens' Table, I kept my mouth shut about the facilities--people were still eating--until my pal Mary later went to the restroom and came back to the table laughing.  "Well, that was an experience!" 

Of course, I knew what she was talking about, but the guys didn't, so they made a point to check out the men's restroom to see if it was any bigger and better.  The verdict:  this was an equal opportunity bar.  Next time, if there IS a next time, this old gal is just going to wear Depends.