I promised Keith that when he told his embarrassing story, I’d tell one of my own. Unfortunately I don’t have one as good as his with him saying, “Baaabaay” because it was the part of the song in his head at the time whilst having sex, but I’m fortunate enough to have plenty to choose from. Running with Keith’s younger year’s memory, mine was back in high school. I think I was around the age 16-17 (you know, the age I still look), my friends and I used to frequent a coffee house called Arabica because in the evenings it was packed with people our age just hanging out.
I’ve never been much of a coffee drinker, at least not back then, so all the water/soda I drank just… you get the picture. So I made my way to the bathrooms. Upon reaching the bathrooms I was met with a sign explaining that since they’re remodeling the men’s bathroom, the women’s bathroom is now unisex. Since most people don’t feel comfortable with this, a chain lock had been installed to give the illusion of safety. I say illusion because of what happened next.
I reached the bathroom door, read the sign, and then tried to open said door and was met with the clunk of the chain lock catching. Whaa? Now, most intelligent people would quickly withdraw and wait patiently for the person to unlock the door so they could enter. Me? Nooo… I’m not that smrrrt! I reached in between the crack and undid the lock. Yeah, I’m dumb, I know.
I don’t really know why I was surprised to see someone in there going, but I was. As I walked in I stared, like a deer caught in headlights, at the back of some guy standing in the bathroom stall with the door open. This is when a normal person would run out. I ran in. As I stood, shocked, in the other stall I asked meekly, “Is this the boys bathroom?” to which he uncomfortably replied, “Uhh no, I uhh think it’s, like, both now.” After I finished what I came to do, I wasn’t sure if I should leave the stall, or wait until he left. Then, to my dismay, four of the boys friends enter. Now, I obviously had to get out of there. If I stayed in the stall, they might think I was doing something (number two) that girls don’t do. So I casually leave the stall and walk over to the sink to wash my hands. The sink, however, has a plan to ruin my calm exit. As I try to turn on the faucet I realize the normal way to turn it on, is actually turning it off. So to turn it on, I had to turn it they way you’d normally turn it off. Strange.
As if this wasn’t already embarrassing enough… I wash my hands and go to turn it off, but instead turn it on even harder. This, of course, causes the water to BLAST all over me… most especially the crotch area. Hrm… wonderful. My mind raced as to what to do next, so I coolly placed my purse there and walked out, past the boys. I can remember thinking how close that’d been to a horrible disaster. At least I’d gotten away with a small crumb of dignity…. until I reached our table. I sat down and recanted my story, red faced, to my friend. She, and the guy at the table next to her, chuckled at my expense, as did I… and then to my utter disbelief… the boys from the bathroom joined the boy at the table next to us.
Let’s just say the rest of the evening was rather uncomfortable for me, and maybe just a little traumatic. It’s just one of the stories of my life that adds to the hilarity that is Jenny today. Atleast I always have a story, right?