Rest Area Unrest

I was forty-five minutes into my hour and a half drive to work when my insides presented me with 2 options.

1 – Find a bathroom very quickly and empty their contents in a public restroom of some kind.

or

2 – Keep driving and find a place to buy a new pair of pants

I didn’t waste much time in choosing option 1 and as “luck” would have it, I found a rest area in less than a mile.

These should say “STRESS AREA”

Once inside, I began to rethink my decision. The stall walls were waist high and offered no privacy to a person in my condition. Having already committed to not buying new pants, I found an empty stall and convinced my sphincter to hold tight the extra minute for the last person in there to wash his hands and leave.

I will spare you the details of what happened next but suffice it to say that it was as loud as thunder and the entire bathroom smelled like a Vegas elevator.

I was just about to unleash the second wave when the sounds of my worst fear came storming into the lobby of the rest area. It was a distant echo at first but grew into raucous ear piercing rage as the 2 bus loads of junior high school children flooded into the bathroom. They were screaming at each other and laughing about how “Someone must have died in here!!!” and “I think I’m going to puke!”

I knew it was only a matter of time before all the urinals and stalls were in use and they would start peeking over my waist high stall wall to see if it was available. As it turns out, the walls were just the right height for no less than 30 of these kids, one after another, to look over my door and discover that not only was the stall not available but the person responsible for the puke inducing stench was still there. To each kid I gave a sheepish grin and an “I’m in here” wave.

As they filed out they held their commentary for the lobby where they met up with all of the Jr. High girls and screamed about the “bald guy that blew up the bathroom”. Great. Now I had to wait at least 20 minutes for the echoing voices to disperse so I could leave my stall. I gave it thirty minutes before I left so I could avoid the walk of shame past the buses . As it turns out, it takes longer than 30 minutes to get 2 bus loads of giggling Jr. High School kids loaded up and ready to go. On the plus side, I think I made the day of 2 bus loads of kids because every single one of them was laughing and pointing at me as I walked to my car. You are welcome Jr. High School kids. You are welcome.