One more story of shame to add to my life's work
/I had a lovely little lunch date with the Husband today. He happens to be in town this week, and I most decidedly took advantage of that rare treat.
We finished eating, and I got up to go use the, um, facilities.
After inquiring with our waiter, I was pointed towards the back of the restaurant. I pushed open the door to what I thought was a multi-stall restroom.
And what to my wondering eyes should appear?
Some poor woman, pants down around her ankles, her big white cheeks planted on the single toilet in the room. She looked up at me and shrieked, "Oh sh#@! I thought I locked it!"
I ran as fast as I could to our table, told the Husband that we had to leave, LIKE. RIGHT. NOW. Good man that he is, he didn't question me. Just grabbed his coat and we vacated the premises faster than if we'd robbed the place.
As we booked it down the block and I told the Husband what had happened, he roared his head back in laughter.
Somehow, I didn't quite see the humor.
I mean, if I had known it was a single, of course I would have knocked. But we were in a restaurant, and I figured there would be more than one. There's always more than one. And since the door was not locked, and there was no knob, I pushed the door open and marched myself right in.
And so today, somewhere out there in St. Louis, a woman sits on her couch probably feeling very, very embarrassed. And maybe just a teensy bit angry with the chubby girl who walked in on her while she sat on the toilet.
And also today in St. Louis, a woman sits on her couch and vows NEVER to make an assumption in a restaurant again.
[Tell me I'm not the only one this has happened to. Lie to me, if you must. I need some commiserating.]
We finished eating, and I got up to go use the, um, facilities.
After inquiring with our waiter, I was pointed towards the back of the restaurant. I pushed open the door to what I thought was a multi-stall restroom.
And what to my wondering eyes should appear?
Some poor woman, pants down around her ankles, her big white cheeks planted on the single toilet in the room. She looked up at me and shrieked, "Oh sh#@! I thought I locked it!"
I ran as fast as I could to our table, told the Husband that we had to leave, LIKE. RIGHT. NOW. Good man that he is, he didn't question me. Just grabbed his coat and we vacated the premises faster than if we'd robbed the place.
As we booked it down the block and I told the Husband what had happened, he roared his head back in laughter.
Somehow, I didn't quite see the humor.
I mean, if I had known it was a single, of course I would have knocked. But we were in a restaurant, and I figured there would be more than one. There's always more than one. And since the door was not locked, and there was no knob, I pushed the door open and marched myself right in.
And so today, somewhere out there in St. Louis, a woman sits on her couch probably feeling very, very embarrassed. And maybe just a teensy bit angry with the chubby girl who walked in on her while she sat on the toilet.
And also today in St. Louis, a woman sits on her couch and vows NEVER to make an assumption in a restaurant again.
[Tell me I'm not the only one this has happened to. Lie to me, if you must. I need some commiserating.]
