... But now...looking forward to more about your trip and the wedding.
Well, let's see ... ah, the trip out and back. Six hours, I think I mentioned, both of my cohorts being in their mid-twenties, so strong of bladder.
Me, not so much. To the point where, in the confined space of the back-seat of a Mazda 3 (a tiny car built for fuel efficiency, not comfort), I was doing The Worm.
And the thing was, the driver plainly stated at the beginning of the trip that there would be only ONE stop, exactly mid-way through the trip, out and back, for gas and any other "duties". Surprisingly my bladder held up well, probably because I severely curtailed my caffeine intake before the trip, but the legs needed stretching after 2 hours or so. They had to wait another hour.
Other than that, the only disconcerting part of the trip was the driver's habit of constant nail-biting. While driving. And checking texts on his phone. While steering with his knees. At 70-75MPH.
Let's see ... oh, yeah, the bathrooms.
Co-ed.
Now, call me old-fashioned, call me modest, call me chauvinistic ... but having a lady (well, a girl, but you get my drift) walk in while you're washing your hands in a public restroom is just ... strange. It goes against a life-long habit of always carefully checking the words (or, nowadays, the pictures) on the door before entering.
The thing is, the sinks are totally co-ed, then there are two frosted-glass doors leading to the toilets and showers. OK, fair enough. But one time I had just finished taking a shower and, unthinkingly, left the shower room wrapped just in a towel.
... I SAY "towel", but rather than use my own that I brought, I was using the school-supplied towel, which revealed far more of me than my son's kilt revealed of him. Think washcloth on steroids.
JUST as I'm passing through the sink area 3 girls come bursting through the door, giggling and chattering away. My heels still have road rash from the sudden stop I made, and I'm sure my face turned a shade of red that would make a McIntosh apple ashamed. And of course, they couldn't be just normal-looking girls - they had to look like they stepped off the front page of
Vogue. Unfortunately I experienced a well-known physiological reaction. They paused, looked me up and down, then one turned to the others and said one word.
"Hairy".
They all fell about laughing and giggling some more, as I made a mad dash across the hall to my room, my face burning and my hand reaching for my security card that would allow me access to my ...
... oh, no.
OH, no!
Yep - the card was in the room. No one else was around, either - the dorm was empty. No phones to call security. No help. None at all.
Except ... one of the girls had been carrying a cell phone. So I had to come to a meeting of the minds with myself: would I make a mad dash into the Men's room and fortify my position there, or beg assistance from the girls for a guy in distress? Time was ticking - I had to be at the ceremony soon ...
Discretion, they say, is the better part of valor. I maintain that necessity is the mother of humiliation. I took position in front of the co-ed bathroom door, knowing the girls should - well, hopefully,
would - be out soon. I assumed the famous Taijiquan stance known as "The Bare Bear" - legs shoulder-width apart, knees slightly flexed, washcloth at half-mast - and awaited my salvation. It came soon enough, the girl's still chattering away as they came out the door one at a time, each stopping next to each other in what appeared to be a choreographed move.
"I need a favor ..." I mumbled, but immediately the words were out of my mouth I had this vision of them screaming "PERVERT!!!" as I chased after them trying to explain, a sudden breeze snatching away my only source of modesty ...
I cleared my throat and began again, one octave lower. "Ladies", I crooned, "I seem to have left my pass-card in my room. Would one of you be so kind as to loan me your phone, so that I can call Security?" I was proud of myself - Barry White couldn't have been slicker.
After their initial shock wore off, one of them produced a phone and handed it to me. I started to sit down on the floor cross-legged, then immediately realized what I was doing and sprang up like a turbo-powered Jack-In-The-Box. I guess they figured I was practicing my
demi-pliés, because they wordlessly watched me as I concluded the lesson. I settled for just standing in Bare Bear position and trying to figure out how to work the micro-sized keys on the phone's keypad. When I failed at this the phone's owner came up to show me how to work it.
... that damned physiological reaction again, but she DID smell good!
Happily the call went through, I handed the phone back to its owner and thanked them profusely. They in turn thanked ME for the, as they called it, "entertainment".
Security arrived five minutes later.
... of course it had to be a woman ...
