I learned from This
A few years ago I had the opportunity to do something that had always been on my bucket list: to attend a show at Philadelphia’s Academy of Music. I always envisioned the experience to be the perfect feminine evening out. You know, getting dressed up for a Saturday night date, having dinner with your boyfriend at a nice restaurant, and then attending a really great show at one of America’s iconic theaters. Barry, my gay friend and imaginary boyfriend, was kind enough to accompany me. I pretended he was “taking me out.” (The web we weave!) Barry loves to be close to the stage and got us orchestra seats in the fifth row. They were perfect in all respects except one: they were really, really far from the ladies room!
It was mid-January in Philadelphia. I was all dolled up, wrapped in spandex, reinforced with Spanx and now, only partway through the first half of the show, I really needed to pee. “This can’t be happening,” I thought. I squirmed, gritted my teeth, and waited for the intermission curtain to begin coming down. As soon as it moved, mid-applause, I bolted out of my seat and sprinted up the aisle. This was not easily done in a boot-length wrap skirt and high-heeled boots, but I got half way up the stairs before anyone else had moved into the aisle. I was smiling and moving fast and looking for the signs for the rest rooms. I saw other women heading to the right and I followed them into what, to this day, is the largest ladies room I have ever seen. There must have been twenty-five stalls, all in a row, and every stall was already taken except the very first one by the entry door. I was desperate. I grabbed it.
Now I was faced with a new dilemma: how to get out of all this padding and wrapping without losing a nail or peeing in my pants. I grunted, pulled and yanked and finally got into the position to sit down. My life was saved. I had made it.
I put myself to together, anticipating that there were going to be lots of women at the mirrors and sinks when I open the door to the stall. I put a smile on my face and opened the door to see what looked like a mad-house of activity. Every sink was taken except the very first one just opposite of my stall. As soon as I exited the stall another woman zipped in behind me to take it. My refuge was gone! I looked to my right and realized there were now a hundred women in a line that stretched into the lobby, all waiting for a stall. Ugh! As I took the first sink to wash my hands, the woman who was now next in line for a stall, stood there and glared at me. I could feel the daggers from the intensity of her stare as I tried to look straight ahead into the mirror. She was really upset that I was there. All of sudden, and I have no idea where in world this came from, but I turned to her and said, “Oh please. Just one more operation and I’ll be like everyone else.” Her mouth dropped a bit, the hard stare melted, and she reached up and touched my forearm with her hand and smiled as she said “dear, dear” as she headed for the next available stall.
Still stunned by what had just happened, I put on my smile and walked past every one of the hundred women in that line as I exited the ladies room. “After this,” I thought, “there is nothing about the ladies room that’s going to intimidate me ever again.” And that’s exactly what happened.
Thanks Caitlin - I would like to dedicate Fridays to you, your post and photos.
It is not that I have run out of things to write about, but I want to make this "our place". Please feel free to comment on something I said - did not say. if you e-mail me your post I will queue then up and post on Fridays. Tell me about your trips, fashion tips, blogs you read and adventures.
Rhonda - RhondaWilliams at Bellsouth.net