Tuesday, October 27, 2009

When it rains...

Look, a missive from Evil Twin! And it's a good one, too.
Hubby’s high school reunion was weekend before last. I am a dutiful wife, so when he asked me to go with him, I agreed. It’s always a good thing to get extra wife points.

He went to a private school which bears a remarkable resemblance to Hogwarts School of Wizardry.

The weather forecast for the weekend was grim. Temperatures in the low 40s with high winds and 2 inches of rain predicted. I packed accordingly. Saturday morning was just miserable. We left the hotel for the school to attend all the stuff Hubby signed up for. Which was everything.

We began to run into members of his old crowd, and after lunch, we all headed to the homecoming game. Fortunately, there was a break in the rain, but it was still cold and windy. The football field was behind the school, up a winding road through the woods at the top of a hill. It was a ten-minute walk, but they had provided shuttle buses for the old and infirm, which I guess we are, now.

We found seats in the bleachers, and Hubby kept bringing me large cups of coffee to keep me warm. Of course, after an hour, nature was calling my name, and it was beginning to rain again. There were two port-a-potties at the end of the field, with long lines. The thought of resting my ass on cold plastic, with my coat bunched up around my middle, and then not being able to wash my hands was all it took for me to hail a shuttle going down to the school.

"Take me to the closest ladies’ room, if you please," I said to the driver, and she did.

I found it down a long, dark hallway. When I got inside, I locked the door. It was the handicapped toilet – a one-seater. My coat was wet, and I don’t pee very well while wearing a coat, so I took it off. There was no place to hang it. No hook, nothing. So, carefully placing the wet side down, I draped it across the sink. I was seriously running out of time, and ran over to the john to do my thing.

Finished, straightening my clothes, zipping zippers, tucking things in, I sashay over to the sink to find my wool-lined raincoat filling up with water. The goddamned sink had a motion detector, and the coat had set it off. The entire basin, lined with the raincoat, was full, and now, water was pouring onto the floor.
CRAP! CrapCrapCrapCrap! The only way to stop it was to remove the coat. About two gallons of water poured out of my coat onto the floor. My pockets were full. The cuffs were full. The woolen lining was completely soaked. The damn coat now weighs 20 pounds.

Rattle. Rattlerattle. Someone is at the door, and wants to use the bathroom. "I guess it’s locked," says one woman to another. "Excuse us, is anyone in there?" I froze, keeping my mouth shut. "I guess this one is closed off. I know where another one is." And they left.

I surveyed the damage. There was about half an inch of water on the floor, with no floor drain. My coat was sopping wet. I began pumping the paper towel dispenser. You know the kind where you push down on the knob, and it dispenses about 12 inches of paper. Yep, that one.
Pump. Pump, pumppump. Pumpumpumpumpumpumpumpumpumpumpump!!

I threw the paper on the floor, and the only thing that happened was I ended up with 15 feet of sodden paper floating in a sea of bathroom water. I was going to have to cut my losses. I scooped up the paper, threw it in the trash bin, and carefully unlocked the door. I peeked my head out and saw the coast was clear. I grabbed the 20-pound coat and dashed down the hallway, leaving a trail of water. Once I got outside, I was safe, because no one could follow the trail of water since it was raining. I ran the two blocks to the parking lot, and got into our car. I was freezing and wet, my hair plastered against my head, my makeup gone.

I spent the next hour trying to warm up and get dry. The inside of the car fogged up.

My phone rang. Hubby asks, "Where ARE you?"

"I’m in the car trying to get warmed up."

"What happened?"

"It’s a long story."

"Well the reception is beginning in the main hall, and everyone is asking where you are."

And so I went.

Could there possibly be enough Wife Points in the world to make that all better? I'm guessing she enjoyed an adult beverage or two at the reception. What do you think?

1 comment:

  1. I think that putting things in a motion-activated sink must have some sort of genetic commonality. Although I haven't done anything nearly as dramatic.

    Sister of ET


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