Outside the Law

Eva and I have used the Men’s public restroom on three separate occasions recently.  I’m entirely disgusted by the idea of this but laziness convinced me to do it.  In case you’re thinking that I’m repulsive, let me clarify that we didn't use full-size restrooms with urinals and stalls, we frequented the one-person-at-a-time variety with only a toilet and a door that locks.

The first time we disregarded the posted Men’s sign was when we were having lunch at a beautiful farm.  The bathrooms were outside and Eva decided the urgency to go was appropriately announced at the very moment I was taking that first delicious bite of my sandwich.  I hesitated for a moment while I considered the ramifications if I ignored her pleas and continued eating my sandwich.  It was a tough call but I opted to take her to the bathroom.  (I should insert here that Eva has recently taken to preferring me over Michael.  She has always preferred her Daddy to me but the tides have now shifted.  I wish they hadn’t.  I was always grateful at potty time in public when she asked, “Daddy take you?”  Now it’s, “Mama take you?” even though I pretend I’m not there.)  I reluctantly put my sandwich down and walked her over to the bathroom while Michael continued to savor his warm sandwich.  We arrived at the facilities and, of course, there was a line to the Ladies' room.  We were standing on asphalt in the blazing sun and my sandwich was shriveling with each passing moment.  And there was the Men’s room, as empty as my stomach.  Persuaded by my hunger, I made the choice to use the Men’s room.  I figured that if we emerged to a man waiting to enter, I could use the excuse that my young daughter couldn’t hold it.  I could say it was an emergency and he would be thrilled to look the other way because Eva and I make a really cute pair. 

We exited the bathroom with complete impunity.  No one was around waiting and I was pleased with myself for successfully skirting the law.

This scenario has since repeated itself two more times.  Although, the third time was really out of necessity and not convenience.  We waited patiently for a few minutes in the hallway for the Ladies' room to be vacated and no progress was made.  Sometimes you can hear the shuffling around and the toilet flushing but it was utterly quiet in there.  Then the entire hallway filled with the choking scent of someone who’s housing a dead animal in their intestines.  I certainly wasn’t going to wait for her to finish and then walk into the mushroom cloud.  I can't have my hair singed off; I’m growing it out and it’s a very tedious process.  So we used the Men’s restroom instead.  Success again.

I don’t want you to think that I enjoy this game.  I do not.  In fact, the idea of using a public Men’s restroom makes me shiver with disgust.  Men are gross.  Eva and I washed our hands twice on each visit to these germ communes.  But I do enjoy the feeling that I’m getting away with something.  Being a housewife is predictable but disregarding posted signs and trespassing into the Men’s room is kind of fun.  

Please don’t notify the authorities.