Last week we went out for dinner with Emily’s folks who were in town visiting. Our favorite local pub was closed for renovations, so we ended up at another small Irish pub close by. Toward the end of the meal Nina had to use the bathroom and Emily asked me to take her (because Emily was helping Ruby). I took a quick look around. There were 2 young guys at the bar, us, and a middle aged woman and her mother in the entire restaurant, so I felt relatively safe. I brought Nina into the women’s bathroom and stood outside her stall holding the stall door slightly ajar (according to her specifications so that neither of us could look at the other but we each could still see that the other was there) while she went. Wouldn’t you know that that was the exact time the older woman decided she had to use the bathroom?! She opened the bathroom door, saw me standing facing an open stall and convulsed, apologizing for entering the wrong bathroom. Talking out loud to herself she walked to the next bathroom and said, “No, that’s not right”, came back to the women’s bathroom and read the sign out loud a few times (as if invoking a magical incantation), then opened the door again. Saw me. And squealed. She closed the door quickly and yelled for all to hear, “There’s a man in the women’s bathroom!” I closed my eyes and took a deep breath.
Nina, from behind the stall door in front of me said in a panicky voice, “Mommie? There’s a man in here?!” “No honey” I said. “Well then what is that lady yelling about?” she asked anxiously. I sighed again and opened the stall door all the way so she could see the eye-rollingly exasperated look on my face. “She’s talking about me” I said resignedly.
In the meantime, the woman opened the door again so the waitstaff could see in (from the bar mind you!), pointed at me and said, “See! I’m not going in there while he’s in there!” I responded as the door closed again, “We’re almost done in here ma’am”. While Nina nearly laughed herself off the toilet. I’m never doing that again.