Can we talk about public bathrooms?

Image from Google

Yeah, the stalls, the smells, the sounds. ACK! I feel such a sense of relief when I open the door, peek under the stalls, and know – no one else is there but me. Ahhh!

This week, I ended up at the bathroom door the same time as another person from the office down the hall. I was polite. Said hello. We had a little small talk conversation, until we both took our places. Honestly, I was speechless after the sounds from that stall, but still…we had greeted each other.

I felt sorta weird leaving, like I should have said, “Bye!” or “Have a good night!” Maybe even, “Don’t forget to wash your hands.” No that’s too mom-ish. I just left, and thankfully made a run for caught the elevator quick.

I mean, really? Is there potty talk etiquette? If there is, I’d like to hear it. I am all about manners. I don’t like being rude. Can we write to Dear Abby?

My first little encounter of the can kind was nothing compared to the second. The NEXT night. I kid you not. I hit the ladies room before hitting the road. Everyone from my office had gone home. I’m the last straggler. I have a sixteen mile or so commute. I like to “go” just in case. I heave open the potty door. It’s heavy and LOUD. People know you enter. It’s got this automatic crank for handicap entry, so it opens with a woosh, and mechanical ticking noises.

Well, I’m a little surprised when someone hollers out from inside their stall, “Hello!” Again, if there is book or something I can pick up on how to deal with the colloquial stall dwellers? Ahem.

So of course I say, “Hi!” As I enter my Sanctum of John. I thought surely that will be the end of that.

She immediately exclaims, “OH!!! I’m sowry! I thought you were somebody I worked with. We are all working overtime tonight. You know if they offer overtime you have to take it.”

I am feeling a little uncomfortable here, as I really have to go, and do I answer her, or do I let it flow? I mean these are some serious things to consider but HEY we are in a BATHroom.

So I go.

And I talk.

“Oh yeeaaah, you gotta take overtime if you can get it. Sure. Especially in this economy.” Speaking louder as the waterworks begin.

I couldn’t really hear her answer over the drone of my Niagara Falls, something about some people didn’t take the overtime, but I did catch the end….”I didn’t know your office stayed open that late.”

As I am finishing and zipping up. What the heck is taking HER so long?? I really HAVE to get out of here. I say, “Yeah, I’m the last one. Worked a little late tonight.” The commode flush deafens the sound of my flee, as I hurriedly fling open the stall door, and run to the sink, washing up in three seconds or less, AND using the antibacterial gel for good measure. I hit the door crank, crank, crank, errrrr -whoosh, “Have a nice night!”

I hear a muffled, “Good night!”

I fly down the hall to the elevator thinking to myself – did that really just happen? I just had an entire conversation with a stranger whose sweet cheeks were gracing a porcelain throne, as they conversed through the stall walls?

Now, there are some conversations………going right down the toilet.

This post was brought to you by –

I chose the prompt People would be surprised to learn that… I have a potty mouth.