Thursday, September 10, 2009

Stranger Danger

My recent post about bathroom etiquette was strangely popular. Well, maybe not so strange. I mean, we all have bodily functions, but it's not socially polite to actually acknowledge or talk about those functions.

Or at least, not to openly discuss the noises those functions make.

Actually, it's okay to talk about the noises those functions make, as long as we don't acknowledge that it's our own persons making those noises. OTHER people make those noises, but not me! Never! Not that you know about, at least.

But we all know that I don't really follow social norms. It's boring. Or at least, kind of like lying, and I am nothing if not honest. (Why didn't Plato or Socrates come up with that one? Instead of, "I think, therefore I am," it should be, "I'm honest, therefore I am....Even if I'm embarassingly honest about stuff that people only think about, never say out loud.")

Please don't misunderstand -- I am not confessing to any noises coming out of my orifices that are impolite. OTHER people have noisy orifical (heh -- I like making up words) emissions, but not ME. Nuh uh.

ANYway, here's the story. I had to use the little girls' room today. As one does. I chose "my" stall, and proceeded to do my business. Quietly. Politely. Discretely. Because there was someone else in one of the other stalls. Who was neither quiet nor discrete.

She finished, exited the stall, washed her hands, and left.

I was just flushing when the bathroom door opened and someone went into the other stall. I exited my own stall and was washing my hands when I was serenaded by yet another round of physiological symphonic cacophony. In no time at all, the toilet flushed and the occupant exited. It was the same woman who had just been in there moments before.

I applaud her efforts at making sure she was in the right place (toilet) at the right time (tooting and other things). And I understand that sometimes you're not done when you thought you were.

What I can't get on board with is what happened next. She apologized to me. In person. To my face. For her noisy bodily functions. Oh, pffft. Let's call a spade a spade. She farted and apologized.


But then, she explained. I'm sorry, but it's bad enough that you've just apologized to me for nature and her fiendish ways, but you don't need to explain. I have a colon too. And as all good colons do, sometimes air gets trapped. I get it. I don't need to know what's trapping air in yours.

Oh! Too late. "I had milk this morning. I need calcium, you know, and I can either take the calcium supplements or drink the milk, and I choose milk."

On the outside, I was the epitome of polite yet detached interest. "Well, you gotta do what you gotta do."

On the inside though, I was a screaming, horrified ball of, "Take the supplement! TAKE THE SUPPLEMENT!"

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