Rambling Rhodes

Close Call?

I have a laundry-list of pet peeves when it comes to using public bathroom stalls. In addition to things like this, I also positively shudder when I sit down on a toilet seat that's still radiating the warmth of the person who shat before me.

It's one of those things that just jump starts my brain and gets me thinking of all sorts of scenarios regarding the person who pooped previously. Was it someone I know? Were they reading a magazine? How long were they sitting here? Things like that.

Well, today, just a few short minutes ago, in fact, I experienced a public-toilet-stall situation that I immediately added to my list of pet peeves.

One thing that I've always just generally undertood to be common toilet stall etiquette is the act of checking for feet in each stall. It doesn't have to be an act of getting down on your hands and knees and peering intently or anything; just a nice, casual glance downward to see if there are some shoes shuffling around down there, indicating stall occupation. Granted, it's not foolproof, but it's probably effective 99 percent of the time.

And I understand that, particularly in the workplace, people just kind of unconsciously develop an affinity for a particular stall; a favorite, if you will. I, too, have my favorite work stall and I, too, feel a pang of disappointment when I see feet shifting around within my favorite stall because it means I have to squat in unfamiliar territory. But, at least I always check for feet, and I move on, though disappointedly, when feet are encountered.

Well, today, I'm sitting there, in an unfamiliar stall, because my favorite was occupied, which I ascertained through appropriate foot-glancing. I was pooping, catching up on the latest issue of eWeek, when someone came barging into the bathroom.

And then the mystery bathroom barger went and slammed up against my toilet stall door, trying to gain entry.

Which. . .

There are several, minor, butt-clenching moments the typical person experiences on any given day. Perhaps you decide to run a late yellow traffic light, or maybe someone cuts you off suddenly on the Interstate, or maybe the family pet simply startles you when you're rounding the corner. All of these may result in a minor, quick clenching of the buttocks.

It's an instinctual "fight or flee" reflexive action, I imagine, a product passed on genetically from our simian ancestors, who had to clench off a turd in mid-effort in order to outrun a hungry tiger. So, I understand where it comes from.

But, when someone tries gaining entrance into your public toilet stall, and makes a considerable amount of noise in the process, while you're blissfully reading an issue of eWeek, the startle-factor, and the instinctive butt clench that accomodates it, is more than just minor; it's considerably pronounced.

It was so pronounced, in fact, that a tiny sprittle of pee went arcing up and over the toilet seat, settling in the boxer shorts that were in a crumpled mass around my ankles.

And then the toilet stall assailant just kind of stood there, apparently not fully realizing that the stall was locked for a reason. Check for the feet, man!!

"There's someone in here!" I finally offerred, hoping to defuse the tense situation.

No movement. Either this guy just didn't understand, or he was really, really upset that his favorite stall was occupied. A few shuffling steps in front the stall occurred, and then finally, FINALLY, the unknown would-be crapper moved on down the row of stalls to a different toilet.

I sat there awhile, pondering the incident, thinking for some reason that I had just experienced a really close call of some sort, although I couldn't figure out what that close call actually was.

But, it definitely made my list of pet peeves. Check for feet, man, that's all I'm saying.

Posted by Ryan at January 6, 2005 03:10 PM