Late Spring Day

On a recent Spring day, the sun was shining, the birds were singing, and Bill and I decided to get out of the house and enjoy the day. Before we parked ourselves on the grass, we had walked through town, stopping to shop and grab a bite of lunch on our way to the park. As we walked toward the park, I realized I would be much more comfortable if I made quick use of a ladies' room. Public toilets are scarce, so I decide to go into the nearby pub/pizzeria to sneakily use their facilities before meeting back up with my husband in the park. 

Hard at work

I am not a person who normally breaks rules, and toilets are for paying customers and I wasn't a paying customer. But I needed to go, so I decided to break the rules. Cheery, beery groups were clustered around the outdoor tables, drinking in the sunshine and booze. I walk past them, looking left and right, feigning looking for a group of friends who are expecting me to join them, and then duck into the building. 

There are fewer people inside, but the pub/pizzeria are still doing good business. I continue to fake looking for my party as I secretly scan the room for the sign to the toilets, all the while worried that the establishment will toss me out if they find out what I'm doing. I'm breaking their rules! 

I see a sign to the toilets, pointing towards a nearby door in a darkish corner of the pub and without a backwards glance, I push through the door. As I open the door and step inside, the words "dough boys" on the door slowly registers as I see a man washing his hands next to the urinal. 

Oh, dear!

I stand stock-still, in full-on deer-in-headlights mode, as the man turns around and ever so nicely says, "You're in the men's, luv," walks past me, pulls the door open and holds it for me to exit. As I re-enter the pub, I see a party seated near the men's loo chuckle and I roll my eyes at them as a self-depricating survival technique. The kind gentleman who escorted me out of the men's points my way to the ladies'. I thank him and hustle across the room and dive into a cubicle in the women's (labeled "Dough Gals") as quick as I can. More from embarrassment than the need to pee, but since I was there…

I slink out of the pub/pizzeria after a few minutes, avoiding the table full of people who had witnessed my  earlier humiliation. 

Next time, I'll just buy a damn pizza.

When the weather's nice, it's really, really nice!