Wednesday, July 1, 2020

Where Are the Urinals?

Among my myriad defiencies, a complete lack of observational skills easily fits in the top echelon. "You walk around with blinders on" is an oft repeated, undeniably accurate statement/exhausted plea from my beleaguered spouse.

Walks I have taken for years lack any detail. The location of virtually any item in the apartment in which I have resided for well over a decade is a complete mystery. Ask me for specifics of almost anything in my universe and all I can produce is a blank stare and a few mumbled guesses. Nothing gets by some people. Everything gets by me.

A number of years back my son and I  visited Tufts, my alma mater. He swears I pointed to a building I lived in for two years. Only it turned out it was, and had always been, an administrative office.

In this most perilous of times, it is most critical to be fully aware of one's surroundings. The six foot rule, masks up, is only as good as your ability to recognize the comings and goings of others.

Yesterday, my son and I found ourselves in Poughkeepsie on an errand. More than an hour from where we reside, nothing was familiar to me. After completing our task we decided to hike across an iconic walking bridge over the Hudson River. First, however I had to pee.

As luck would have it, at the beginning of this route, there was a small building with bathrooms. I started towards one. My son redirected me, as my choice involved first opening a door to get in. He pointed to my right and I headed to a space that led directly into a room.

I was a bit anxious as this was the first public restroom I had been in since Covid 19 entered the lexicon. I wanted to get in and out as quickly as possible. Mask on, as little touching of surfaces as I could manage.

But as I surveyed the scene, I noticed there were only stalls, no urinals. I thought this strange, but managed to pry open a door using any body part but my hands. No one else was around, I was out in less than a minute, including the 20 seconds of soaping my arms ups to my elbows. I emerged content, after an unqualified success.

"You know you just came out of the ladie's room" my son said in a tone mixing exasperation with incredulity in equal measure. I turned around and, for the first time noticed that there were two different entrances off the main opening, one directing visitors to the men's room, the other to where I had wandered.

I had failed to see the signs or even notice there were two options here. I was most grateful that no one had been there to witness my failures in full blown operation. Except of course for my son. Who couldn't even take the time to text this one to his sister, to add to the Everest sized mountain of my similar faux pas. This one required an immediate call.

Because some things I do almost defy the gravitational pull of the earth.


Anonymous said...

Why am I not surprised?
(How long have I known you?)

Anonymous said...

I'd rather pee in my pants.


Anonymous said...

George Castanza has nothing on you.--RE

Anonymous said...

Join the crowd. My daughter is convinced I am having a stroke a day.
Hand in there.


Anonymous said...

See above: make that HANG.

Anonymous said...

It could happen to anyone.


Anonymous said...

C’mon dear friend - please give yourself a break! I can’t tell you how many times I’ve walked into a Men’s Room and was grateful that I was able to beeline out before the guy or guys were lined up facing the other way and never noticed me! As well, please also console yourself in the knowledge that, in utter desperation, I have admittedly used a Men’s Room with a stall countless times.....including once in your blessed Yankee Stadium when a guy was kind enough to guard outside for me!!


Anonymous said...

The trick is to realize it before you do anything so that you can run before anyone else notices you


NL said...

Such a funny story. I can just see Richie's reaction to your little error and that's what keeps me laughing. NL