Restroom Confessions

One night about five years ago, my friend and I had dinner at the Waterfront. Afterwards, went in a department store to browse around and kill some time. I must have had a lot to drink, because I had to use the restroom right away. (Keep in mind that it wasn’t alcohol I’d been drinking… I think).

I went into the first available stall and, well, did my thing. Relieved, I turned around and strutted out the stall toward the sink only to find… a girl washing her hands! “What is she doing in the men’s room?” I thought. Then that sinking feeling came over me. I was in the women’s room.

By this time I felt much smaller than I already was. I had to get out of there quickly, but I still had to wash my hands. (I may be dumb, but I’m certainly not unsanitary.)

I approached the sink next to the girl washing her hands. I didn’t look at her, but I could feel her looking at me. “Looks like I’m in the wrong restroom,” I said to her, realizing the occupied stalls behind us contained several more women. “This is so embarrassing,” I assured them all as I tore off a wad of paper towels and got the hell out of there.

Looking back, I guess there were a few signs I should have noticed after I missing the obvious one on the door to the restroom. One of which was the lack of urinals. That should have been a dead giveaway.

I’m somewhat embarrassed by this story, but more so for the women in the restroom. I can only imagine what they thought seeing a pair of shoes facing the toilet in the next stall.