Public Humiliation—Round Three

I hadn’t even thought of making this into a blog post, but once Gary heard what I did, he said I had to.  Whatev.  It does seem to fit the recent pattern and can I tell you, coming up with a title has never been so easy.

Last night was Caroline’s music program at school.  She was supposed to be there at 6:45, with it starting at 7 p.m.  At 6:30, we were still at home, wolfing down our supper.  It had already been a long day for me. 

Hurriedly, we got all the kids into the van and pulled in at the school right on time.  It was absolutely pouring rain so since I was already behind the wheel and was the only one in a real coat, one good for rain, I dropped the family off at the door and went on to park the van.  Primo parking was limited as always and I ended up finding a spot fairly far from the school, but never fear, Ms. Prepared had an umbrella in the passenger’s side door and with my foresight to be wearing an actual rain coat, I was feeling pretty good about myself. 

I realized I needed the ladies’ room as soon as I got into the building and, boy, was that convenient since it is located in the main area of the whole school, right between the lobby where you walk in and the gym, which is where I was headed for Caroline’s program. 

I walked right in, on a mission to go as quickly as I could so that I could promptly get out to rejoin the family, already sitting and waiting for me in the gym.  I looked forward to getting to settle in to watch what I knew would be a fab 2nd grade performance. 

As I was going, I remember remarking to myself about the condition of the toilet seat itself.  Normally, I would’ve changed stalls, but here I was in a big hurry so I just used it, we’ll say, strategically.  I had to wonder just what kinda acting up must have happened earlier in the day for some little school girl to leave that particular area of the toilet so pee covered.  It would be physically unlikely for a girl to pull that off unless she was like standing on the seat itself.  Goofy kids.

[Eww, tmi and gross, I know, but trust me, it is relevant.]

So I warshed my hands well and headed over to the towel dispenser.  In walked someone else and I instinctively smiled and said hi.  It was a cute little shorty about Sam’s size and Sam’s gender.  Honestly, it didn’t sink in as anything unusual since it’s nothing  for us moms to see little boys in ladies’ rooms all the time.  You don’t just send a little kid into a public bathroom alone so we do this boy-in-the-girls’-bathroom thing ourselves at restaurants and stores and no big deal. 

As I was standing there casually rolling out paper toweling, it wasn’t until I realized I was looking at a row of like eight glaring white urinals that it sunk in. 

I think I gasped out loud and I know I briskly walked forward to the door with the length of paper towel trailing from my dripping hands, not spending even a second to actually dry my hands.  Out I walked and, quick glance over my shoulder, yep, sure enough there was this outside the door. 

 

[Except I’m thinking now it did not actually have the word MEN,  just the figures.  Surely it was just the figures.] 

And by walking out, I mean out into the main area of the school where hundreds of people were gathered to go into the gym.  I nonchalantly, and yeah, maybe I was sweating profusely and had a beet red face, made my way, weaving through the mass of people to finally get inside the gym doors, just keeping the head low so no one would recognize me as the perv that had been in the little boy bathroom.  With a little boy. 

Once in the gym, I looked up and did a quick scan of the bleachers.  Hmm, no family.  There was all kinds of open seating in this corner right by the door where I was standing.  Why wouldn’t my family be there?  Make it nice and easy on me, please. 

No, I had to stand there on this gym floor for what felt like ten whole minutes.  I might as well have been wearing bright red lipstick and a dumb 50’s costume while doing the chicken dance solo, but don’t stop there.  Now add to that a big neon label across my forehead, Boys’ Bathroom Weirdo. 

And forget the extreme urge to just duck, no, I had to lift my head up high and clear to actually be able to scan the crowd in the bleachers to spot my family that right then felt like the only place, the only people I could run to and maybe comfortably fit in. 

There is something about me and this dern new school.  Whose lame-o idea to move anyway?! 

I didn’t see them as I gazed across the faces of all the people filling row after row of bleachers, so I swallowed hard and started walking, walking the length of the entire gym, facing the crowd so I wouldn’t miss the sight of my loving husband, my handsome boys that would be smiling to welcome me as I would at last find my saved seat right with them.

So I walked, and I walked, still scanning, and yes, I truly am not exaggerating at all, finally in the farthest, highest up corner possible, there they sat.  I climbed the steps to get up to them, climbing, climbing and with each step still just wanting to sink down into the floor and disappear.  Finally, I reached them.  They were smiling at me, but at the same time I noticed it was more like sorta evil-chuckling.  It wasn’t a sweet smile like “Mom, so glad you’re finally in out of the hard, cold rain and the awful sea of people pointing at you and now you get to sit with us and just know we love you so much no matter what in life you pull.”  No, I clearly recognized it as smug smirks from all four of them and I had to wonder what was up.  Just then Grant couldn’t contain it any longer and laid it right out, “Mom, you know why we sat here?!” 

No.  Do tell.  Please.

“Because Dad said it would embarrass you if you had to walk clear across the gym in front of everybody.”

And at that point he didn’t even know just how doubly funny his prank actually was.

[I love that my stories can make you laugh, but let’s hope that ends the stories of Pub Humil. I can’t take much more.]