Everyone has had that moment, the one terrifying- albeit later hilarious- moment, where you psych yourself out. Whether it be mistakenly thinking you left the stove on, and you’re already at the grocery store, or when you are fairly certain that you have a communicable disease...because you typed all your symptoms into WebMD and they matched.
Myself, begin a normal human being, and a hypochondriac, have had several of these types of psych outs. But they are not the ones to which I am referring.
No ladies and gents, I am talking about the ever dreaded moment you look over and realize that you have no toilet paper. None. I’m talking about the sinking, anguished feeling of being stranded on a toilet.
My unfortunate story takes place at a mall not far from here. Not to be confused with the one I actually work at, making it just unfamiliar enough to get turned around and lost.
Ironically, I was there for a work related reason. I was sent to a retail conference to learn how to “more effectively” haggle people out of their money.
Let me just say that being trapped in a tiny overheated conference room, in the back halls of an over-capacitated mall with 20 people is not fun. By the time our thirty minutes of freedom rolled around, (aka: lunch) I was itchy with the prospect of breathing fresh air, that hadn’t been circulating around the room for the last three hours.
Of course, the first thought in my mind was: Get to food. My stomach had been having a lively and rather loud conversation with my brain (and everyone else in the room) making it hard to concentrate on anything else but obtaining and consuming a sandwich at the very LEAST.
When I had finished the last of the most glorious sandwich I had ever tasted and a large Orange Julius, I realized that my bladder had swollen up to the size of an overfilled water balloon. The kind that is so full you can actually see the plastic working up a sweat to contain all the sloshy water. It was bad. And I was in pain. I Potty Shuffled* to the nearest bathroom in a quick and orderly fashion.
(*not to be confused with the “potty dance” http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=DacxAfN_T-Y although it has to be said, the elderly mad holding his crotch in short-shorts at 0:32 would be enough to set any toddler back from potty training for years)
When one has to pee as badly as I did, your first thought is GETTER DONE. You do not stop to check your surroundings, you are lucky if you enter the right gender washroom, let alone reach a stall in time. So you can imagine my extreme distress and utter disappointment after finally achieving the flooding feeling of relief, to realize toilet paper was no where to be found.
At this point it was a race to what would happen first, my limited time to get back to the conference room running out (five minutes and thirteen seconds), or someone coming to use the washroom. You’d think it would be fine, that people have to pee all the time.
That is not the case. No one in the world ever has to pee when you need them too.
Robert Munsch even wrote a book about it. (http://robertmunsch.com/i-have-to-go/)
For two minutes I sat there in silence. Alone without the tinkling sound of companionship. Distraught over the undoubtable reprimand I would receive for being late. I was getting desperate.
At three minutes I threw dignity to the wind and started yelling.
After a minute and a half of “HELLOOO??” and “TRAPPED! IN NEED OF ASSISTANCE!!” my prayers were answered. The familiar clickity clack of painful-but-attractive-shoes, echoed down the bathroom hall.
Me: “Um Hello? I know this must be rather odd, and I’m sorry for the awkwardness, but I am stranded on the toilet, and I am late.”
*Brief pause*
Laughter.
Then HALLELUJAH! From the hands of an amazing mystery woman a wad of toilet paper!
Finally freed from the confines of the stall I met my savior. A sweet thirty-something year old mom who had tears in her eyes and blotches on her cheeks from laughing so hard.
Me: “Thank you so much! I am eternally grateful.”
Savior: “Happy to help. You made my day, in fact this might have made my month!”
After a brief discussion on the dangers of public washrooms I was flying out the door and back to the conference room. Turns out running against mall traffic in heels is not an easy feat to accomplish. Nor is it very attractive while doing it..
But the point is I was there ON. TIME. And I am sure the group of seniors I plowed through like a bowling ball are all fine.
I never saw that awesome mom again, but if you happen to stumble upon this, know that your aid was entirely appreciated. There is not many who would be as cool as you.
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