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A Wrong Turn
I was distracted, okay? I have a lot on my mind these days. And, all right, I'll admit it: sometimes I'm a little absent-minded. It was a perfectly natural mistake. Anybody could have made it.
Well, lots of people, anyhow.
I was walking down the hall and thinking about the Terwillinger project; it's pretty complicated, and there are some tricky points that I haven't quite worked out yet. And I've already admitted that I was distracted, remember? Anyway, somehow I took a wrong turn. It was a few seconds after I walked into the bathroom that I had a strange feeling and realized that I was in...the Women's Room.
Holy crap!
My first panicked reaction was fear. Was there anyone in here?
No. Whew! That could have been bad. Jeeze, this doesn't look that different. I always thought that the Women's Room would be full of flowers and chaise longues and that sort of thing.
I should probably get out of here before someone walks in. That could be embarrassing -
Wait a minute.
Why are there URINALS in the women's room?
My world teetered and spun. Why on earth would there be urinals in the women's room? What purpose could they serve? Was it a screw-up by the people who'd built the building? But then why hadn't they fixed it?
And it was clear that the urinals were being used. There were fresh urinal-cakes in them, and from where I was in the middle of the room I could see that they were full of water.
Weird.
And somehow kind of gross.
Could it be that women secretly have penises? That makes no sense. How could I not have known, or noticed? Could they be retractable and hidden? No, that's just too weird. I hope.
Maybe some women use those rubber things - I forget what they're called - that I saw in a news article one time, those things that let them pee in the snow? But...but...that's just bizarre. There's no way that enough women could be using those things to justify urinals. And they'd need to wash them after they used them, wouldn't they? I just can't buy that - I'd know if lots of women were using those things.
Wouldn't I?
This doesn't make sense. Women are always complaining that there aren't enough toilets for them anyway, so why not convert the urinals to regular toilets?
Wait a minute. Could there be some other use for urinals? (As what, sinks? Come on!).
Or are these urinals at all? Maybe they're some sort of bidet. But bidets don't look like that. At least, they didn't in Crocodile Dundee.
No. They're definitely urinals.
I think I felt the door start to open before I heard it. I moved faster than I would have thought possible; I was in the stall before I realized it, fumbling with the damn latch. It was stuck, it was stuck, the door was open, IT WAS STILL STUCK, I heard footsteps on the floor, I jiggled it desperately, click! the tongue of the latch slid into place. I stepped back quickly from the door. My shoes would be a dead giveaway.
It was two women, and they were talking. Somehow this was the most bizarre moment for me; secretly listening to women in the Women's Room, talking without knowing that a man was there. What sort of secrets would I learn?
Their voices sounded funny. Echoey and kind of...kind of familiar. For some reason that gave me a momentary thrill. Who could they be?
And what were they doing? They weren't coming into the stall next to mine, and that's the only other one there was. Suddenly I heard a splashing noise and -
Oh.
My.
God.
They were. They were using the urinals.
Did I dare to peek? I had the momentary fear that I might be about to learn secrets no man should know, a secret that would end with me being hunted by an elite cadre of women - Defenders of the Urinal Secret? - and disappearing from human memory. I knew that was silly, of course. There had to be a reasonable explanation. Didn't there?
Listen to that splashing! Man, that's a full bladder. And they certainly don't mind chatting away, do they? I've always suspected that women talk in the bathroom. Although of course more and more men do, too. I remember one time when there was an idiot in the stall next to me who was talking on his cell phone the whole time that I was in there. That put a damper on things, let me tell you!
My goodness, they like to talk. Not surprising, though - salespeople always do. Most of them are in love with the sounds of their own voices; it's practically a requirement of the profession. And such loud voices!
Loud. Clear. Filled with that false heartiness. And curiously, curiously...deep.
Suddenly I had a terrible suspicion.
A peek through the crack of the stall door confirmed it. Men! Salesmen! Holy crap, I had been in the Men's Room all the time!
You know, I really need to get more rest.
Well, lots of people, anyhow.
I was walking down the hall and thinking about the Terwillinger project; it's pretty complicated, and there are some tricky points that I haven't quite worked out yet. And I've already admitted that I was distracted, remember? Anyway, somehow I took a wrong turn. It was a few seconds after I walked into the bathroom that I had a strange feeling and realized that I was in...the Women's Room.
Holy crap!
My first panicked reaction was fear. Was there anyone in here?
No. Whew! That could have been bad. Jeeze, this doesn't look that different. I always thought that the Women's Room would be full of flowers and chaise longues and that sort of thing.
I should probably get out of here before someone walks in. That could be embarrassing -
Wait a minute.
Why are there URINALS in the women's room?
My world teetered and spun. Why on earth would there be urinals in the women's room? What purpose could they serve? Was it a screw-up by the people who'd built the building? But then why hadn't they fixed it?
And it was clear that the urinals were being used. There were fresh urinal-cakes in them, and from where I was in the middle of the room I could see that they were full of water.
Weird.
And somehow kind of gross.
Could it be that women secretly have penises? That makes no sense. How could I not have known, or noticed? Could they be retractable and hidden? No, that's just too weird. I hope.
Maybe some women use those rubber things - I forget what they're called - that I saw in a news article one time, those things that let them pee in the snow? But...but...that's just bizarre. There's no way that enough women could be using those things to justify urinals. And they'd need to wash them after they used them, wouldn't they? I just can't buy that - I'd know if lots of women were using those things.
Wouldn't I?
This doesn't make sense. Women are always complaining that there aren't enough toilets for them anyway, so why not convert the urinals to regular toilets?
Wait a minute. Could there be some other use for urinals? (As what, sinks? Come on!).
Or are these urinals at all? Maybe they're some sort of bidet. But bidets don't look like that. At least, they didn't in Crocodile Dundee.
No. They're definitely urinals.
I think I felt the door start to open before I heard it. I moved faster than I would have thought possible; I was in the stall before I realized it, fumbling with the damn latch. It was stuck, it was stuck, the door was open, IT WAS STILL STUCK, I heard footsteps on the floor, I jiggled it desperately, click! the tongue of the latch slid into place. I stepped back quickly from the door. My shoes would be a dead giveaway.
It was two women, and they were talking. Somehow this was the most bizarre moment for me; secretly listening to women in the Women's Room, talking without knowing that a man was there. What sort of secrets would I learn?
Their voices sounded funny. Echoey and kind of...kind of familiar. For some reason that gave me a momentary thrill. Who could they be?
And what were they doing? They weren't coming into the stall next to mine, and that's the only other one there was. Suddenly I heard a splashing noise and -
Oh.
My.
God.
They were. They were using the urinals.
Did I dare to peek? I had the momentary fear that I might be about to learn secrets no man should know, a secret that would end with me being hunted by an elite cadre of women - Defenders of the Urinal Secret? - and disappearing from human memory. I knew that was silly, of course. There had to be a reasonable explanation. Didn't there?
Listen to that splashing! Man, that's a full bladder. And they certainly don't mind chatting away, do they? I've always suspected that women talk in the bathroom. Although of course more and more men do, too. I remember one time when there was an idiot in the stall next to me who was talking on his cell phone the whole time that I was in there. That put a damper on things, let me tell you!
My goodness, they like to talk. Not surprising, though - salespeople always do. Most of them are in love with the sounds of their own voices; it's practically a requirement of the profession. And such loud voices!
Loud. Clear. Filled with that false heartiness. And curiously, curiously...deep.
Suddenly I had a terrible suspicion.
A peek through the crack of the stall door confirmed it. Men! Salesmen! Holy crap, I had been in the Men's Room all the time!
You know, I really need to get more rest.