When you have to visit a public loo there is invariably a line of
women,
you smile politely and take your place, it finally gets to your
turn,
you check for feet under the cubicle doors. Every one is
occupied.....
but eventually a door opens and you dash in, nearly knocking down
the
woman leaving the cubicle.
You get in to find the door won't latch. It doesn't matter, the
wait
has
been so long you are about to wet your knickers!!! The dispenser
for
the
modern "seat covers" is handy, but empty. You would hang your
handbag
on a
door hook, if there was one, but there isn't - so you carefully,
but
quickly drape it around your neck, yank down your knickers, and
assume
"
The Position."
In this position your aging, toneless thigh muscles begin to
shake.
You'd love to sit down, but you certainly hadn't taken time to
wipe the
seat or lay toilet paper on it, so you hold "The Position."
To take your mind off your trembling thighs for a moment when you
reach
for horror or horrors an empty toilet paper dispenser. Your
thighs
start
to shake more. You remember the tiny tissue that you blew your
nose on
yesterday - the one that's still in your handbag which is now
burning
your neck and shoulders with the weight. So you contort your arm
into a
very unnatural position and start to fumble around in the deep
dark
depths of your handbag for that small crumpled 'used' tissue no
bigger
than your thumbnail.
Someone pushes your door and because the latch doesn't work it
hits
your head which is bent over from holding the hanging handbag,
and
you
start to topple backward. "Occupied!" you scream, as you reach
for
the
door and drop the precious, tiny, crumpled tissue you had only
just
retrieved with your index finger into an unknown puddle on the
floor.......if that isn't enough you lose your balance altogether
and
gravity pulls you down ...... down ..... directly onto the TOILET
SEAT.
It is wet, of course, you bolt up knowing all too well that it's
too
late.
Your bare bottom has made contact with every imaginable germ and
life
form that lives on the uncovered seat. By this time, the automatic
sensor on the back of the toilet is so confused that it flushes,
propelling a stream of water like a fire hose into the bowl which
sprays
a fine mist of water that covers your bum and runs down your legs
along
with the various life forms and down into your dishevelled
knickers
which have now dropped down to your ankles. The flush somehow
sucks
everything down with such force that you grab onto the empty
toilet
paper dispenser for fear of being dragged in too.
At this point, you give up. You're soaked by the spewing water
and
the
wet toilet seat. You're exhausted. You try to wipe yourself with
a
piece
of gum wrapper you found in your pocket and then slink out
inconspicuously to the sinks. You can't figure out how to operate
the
taps [new obviously from bath-store.com/martha's whatever], so
you
run
your hands underneath it grateful for the 2 drops there, then
around the
basin itself. You go to the towel dispenser past the line of
women
still
waiting, where of course there are no paper towels so you move
over to
the hand blower, which, yes you've guessed it, also doesn't work.
You are no longer able to smile politely to the women, but there
is an
unspoken understanding between you all. A kind soul at the very
end of
the line points out that you have a piece of toilet paper
trailing
from
your shoe. (Where was that when you NEEDED it??) You yank the
paper
from your shoe, plonk it in the woman's hand and tell her warmly,
"Here,
you just might need this."
As you exit, you spot your hubby, who has long since entered,
used, and
left the Men's. Annoyed, he asks, "What took you so long, and why
is
your handbag hanging around your neck?"
This is dedicated to women everywhere who deal with public loo's.
It
also finally explains to the men what really does take us so long
and
also answers their other commonly asked question about why women
go to
the loo in pairs. It's so the other one can hold the door, hang
onto
your purse and hand you Kleenex under the door!