Date Night, The Embarrassed Pooper, and George Clooney

The kids have been out of school for the last few days and by 5 o’clock on Friday I was practically scratching at the front door to get out. Seeing my husband’s car in the driveway made me salivate and run in circles. I almost cried when our babysitter showed up. Date night! Date night! Date night!

We decided to go to dinner and see a movie. I like to take things at a leisurely pace on date night. We had plenty of time to get to the restaurant, have a relaxed dinner and get to the theatre without rushing. We decided to see The Descendants because George Clooney makes me horny as hell it was getting so much hype. Since it was selling out we picked up the tickets first. I parked in front of the theatre, put on my hazards, pissed off a bunch of people (yeah, screw you too, jerks), H-band jumped out and got the tickets and jumped back in.

We were in the sweet spot of date night timing. H-band said he knew how to get to the restaurant. I countered with Hey, how about using our trusty friend Mr. Mapquest? He declined. We ended up getting lost. My Little Asshole made an appearance. I got The Look of Marital Annoyance. I engaged Mr. Mapquest. We found our way. I tucked my Little Asshole away and we had a great dinner at a delicious Lebanese place.

After we ate our fill of really excellent Portland falafel (http://www.hodas.com/) we headed back to the theatre. (Me: Do you know how to get back? H-band: Yes. Veer left. Me: Over the bridge? H-band: Yes. Me: Isn’t it closed? H-band: Yes, possibly. Me: So, I still go over the bridge? H-band: Yes. Me: Um….) Anyhow, I like to get to the movies early. I am particular about where we sit (I have to avoid loud chewers and heavy breathers). I like to make fun of the previews during The Twenty. Being late just makes me twitchy. Despite the bridge closure and going the wrong direction on the highway we made it on time and got our usual seats. I decided to take a quick pre-movie pee.

I must ask: Why do women have such odd behavior when it comes to public restrooms? There was a line of at least fifteen women. Everyone seems to fall into a particular social role while waiting to pee. I will categorize some of them as follows: The Line Leader. The Gawker. The Wanderer.

The Line Leader is close to the front of the line. She wants to make sure the line keeps moving. She watches the stall doors like a hawk. If there is not immediate response to an open stall the Line Leader get huffy, points out the vacancy loudly: “There! There’s an open one! Right there!” She would like to escort each person to their stall but doesn’t want to risk her spot.

Next is The Gawker. She sees the long line and is not sure if she has to pee badly enough to wait. The Gawker is anxious, possibly in need of medication. She cuts to the front of the line while assuring people that she is not really cutting, only surveying the line. The Gawker pokes her head into the bathroom to view the row of stalls. She sighs loudly. She is indecisive. “Maybe I’ll just wait til I get home,” she says with contempt.

Then there is The Wanderer. She cuts the line because she is stupid and wasn’t aware of the line. She goes to the front of the line and causes the Line Leader to freak out. Several women complain. The Wanderer looks confused. Why the fuss? The Wanderer can’t believe there is a line! She fixes her hair in the mirror. The Line Leader explains that there is a system in place. The Wanderer goes to the back of the line, makes a phone call, talks loudly. When she finally, rightfully, gets to the front of the line and a stall opens up, she wanders around and can’t figure out which stall is actually available.

Then there is the behavior of the women when they are in the stall. They are The Messy Urinator, The  Rotting Crotch, The Embarrassed Pooper, and the I Might Catch A Disease From A Toilet Seat Lady.

The Messy Urinator stands over the toilet and pees all over the seat. Then she leaves with a lake of urine in her wake.

The Rotting Crotch leaves a foul smell that hangs in the air around the toilet. She does not believe in vaginal cleanliness. There should be a gas mask hanging from the hook for the woman who follows her in line.

The Embarrassed Pooper takes a dump and is clearly uncomfortable about it. She flushes multiple times. She sprays a lot of perfume and then runs out of her stall.

And lastly the I.M.C.A.D.F.A.T.S.L. She covers the toilet seat with three to five toilet seat covers. She urinates cleanly into the hole but will not touch anything. She leaves toilet seat covers on the seat and sometimes toilet paper hanging over the side of the toilet.

I could go on, but I’ll just leave it at the I Might Catch A Disease From A Toilet Seat Lady. And to let you know that The Descendants is pretty much a sob fest, so be forewarned if that’s not your type of thing. I left the movie looking like a hot mess.