Pooping

Yep. This post is going to be about poop. The bodily function. But not my OWN poop, but rather the poop of my roommate.

So she and a group of guys are hanging out in Austin at a film festival. Lots of standing in lines and sitting in movie theatres. Not a lot of time for, YA know, private time. Time on the throne. Blessings from the bowels.

But these things must happen.

There's a small line in the ladies room, and for those of you who are familiar with the lines in ladies rooms, you know how seriously we take these things. That turnover rate has got to be GO GO GO! So a stall opens up, the handicapped stall, and my roommie walks in.

She's in the middle of doing her business, when she hears the most frightening thing one can possibly imagine:

"Maybe you can use one of the other stalls..."
and a feeble voice replies
"But I need the handicapped stall..."

My roommie, right in the middle of dropping a stink bomb into the handicapped toilet, felt her heart plummet to her toesies.

She had been in there for an understandable amount of time, considering the deed being done, so who knows how long this elderly woman had been waiting, and she was just going to have to wait a minute longer. You can't really stop natural processes halfway through and switch stalls. THIS IS ALL OR NOTHING TIME!

So roomie finishes as fast as nature would allow, and she frantically ran around the stall trying to clear the air, but it was too late. Her presence was known.

So she dashes quickly out of the stall and scurries past the legitimately old woman who was shuffling desperately with her walker toward her relief. Little did she know what she would encounter upon entering that handicapped stall.

Meanwhile, roommie feels on about the same humanitarian level as Nazis and Klan members. For about 5 minutes, you know that every woman who enters that bathroom sniffs the air, turns to her friend (because women use the bathroom buddy system), and--temporarily forgetting that she, too, poops--says, "Can you believe that someone would do that? I mean REALLY."

So be careful in such situations. Unless you use a wheelchair, walker, or cane, try desperately to avoid contaminating the holiness of the handicapped stall.

We're down to single digits on the days between here and freedom. We can make it.