We humans are creatures of habit. We generally go through our daily routines almost by rote, sometimes not even thinking about why or what we are doing, but simply following through on a familiar, repetitive task.Reaching for the toothbrush in the morning, as you have done a thousand times before, you squeeze the contents of the tube onto your implement, only to discover - sometimes too late - that you are about to clean your teeth with feline laxative or hemorrhoid ointment.
When leaving the house in the morning we open the garage door before backing out, but sometimes one element in our mental equation is left out and we mindlessly back through that door without raising it. The same door we had opened a few thousand times before.
How do we do these things; are we getting old and demented? Are we losing our marbles or are we just victims of ourselves and the routines that we mindlessly repeat day after day?
Luckily, I have never followed through with, or been absent-minded enough to perpetrate any of the aforementioned offenses. I have come close, though. The apparent boringness of the routine task can end up biting you in your rear, if your mind is not fully engaged.
Take, for instance, what happened to me the other day when the wife and I stopped with our two boys at McDonald's while on a roadtrip. After eating, I made my way to the Men's Room. I've done it a thousand times before, but something was different about this particular Men's Room for a couple of reasons; 1: It appeared to be cramped and closed in, compared to other men's rooms I had visited, not open and unobstructed. This could be because every terlit in the place (5 or 6 along one wall with a huge Handicap terlit on the end), had it's own stall and dark woodgrain door which broke up the space and gave the illusion of making the place look even more narrow than it was. 2: There was not one stand up Urinal in the entire room.
This did cause a couple of double takes and I even peered into every stall as my brain was trying to compute what my eyes were taking in. As I did this, a couple of things flashed through my mind; "this place has private stall terlits exclusively in place of urinals, because the truckers coming in off the highway appreciated the added privacy." - I had noticed the signs driving in and was witness to the ample truck parking way out back.
It also occurred to me that this restaurant might be some sort of "Test Model" for other McDonald's franchises, as it is fairly well known that the Columbus, Ohio area is test market for manufacturers of all things under the sun - why would a McDonald's be any different? As the thoughts were all aswirl in my head, I am also simultaneously thinking that this must be a a "high end" Micky D's which caters to the needs of the man with public performance issues and has gone to the trouble and expense of providing this unique and private restroom experience ..."
After taking another gander about the room, I decided to open a stall (one was the same as the next) and stepped inside. Just as I was about to close and latch the door, a mild sense of panic flooded over me - "What if this wasn't a Men's Room?"
The only reason I would even venture to think such a thing is because last summer when visiting our old neighborhood in Colorado, I had stopped at the WalMart off of Arapahoe Rd., East of I-25 in Centennial. My quest: to purchase some glue-like hair care products, as my my mane was being particularly unruly in the dry Colorado air.
After making my purchase (some Garnier goo in a green sqeeze bottle, the contents therein having the consistency of somewhere between phlegm and STP), I thought maybe I'd head to the restroom to apply some of my newly acquired gel and slick my hair aft prior to the drive back to the house. No big deal. I made my way toward the Men's Room. As I progressed, I looked up ahead to spy the large opening in the wall which is typical of the entry for WalMart's restroom facilities - I even saw a couple of guys go inside. I was on the right track, but my mind had played a trick on me and I didn't even know it yet.
Up to that point, it had been my experience that the Men's Rooms in WalMarts were located to the right of the large common opening - so, in I go only to be greeted by the sight of a mother helping her daughter wash her hands and fix her hair or whatever sort of secret things mothers and daughters do in public restrooms (having two sons, the happenings there are a complete mystery to me). This entire panorama caught me a bit off guard and my mind rushed in to try to come up with an explanation for what my eyes were currently witnessing.
The first thought that goes through my head is: " Oh look, there's a girl in the Men's Room ..."
Not so unusual. I've seen Dads with smaller girls in various Men's Rooms when they've been tasked with toilet duty because Mom was either out of the picture or doing something else at the time and unable to help. Another "No big deal" moment. Dads are usually pretty good about being discreet and will always pick a stall with a door, so as not to traumatize the little female kidlets.
My second thought was: " Oh look, there's a woman in the Men's Room helping her daughter ... ?!?!"
It was shortly after this that my innocent sense of "Awe shucks, ain't that cute," quickly gave way and melted into, "But ... why is she helping her daughter in the Men's . . . GREAT SCOT!!! I'M IN THE LADIES ROOM !!!!
I was the victim of my overly confident sense of familiarity and hadn't really bothered to read the sign outside door. Stupid. Stupid Stupid!
And while I did see some men walking toward that doorway, I probably glanced away just before they DIDN'T go in, but my mind seemlessly edited the scene to tell my brain that then men had gone into the door on the right side - the side my mind had already decided was the Men's Room, but in reality was just the opposite.
We return now to the McDonald's restroom where I am beginning to blush and get nauseous at the same time a mild anxiety attack begins to take hold. I have turned from the stall and am now only feet from the entry door so I decide to have a peek across the way to see how that particular restroom door opposite my location is labeled.
MEN'S.
CRAP!
You've go to be kidding me. How did this happen to me . . . TWICE!?!
You could've lit a match head on my face.
I quickly and casually slip out of the Ladies Room, take the two the three casual steps across the nook and duck into the Men's Room hoping no one had noticed my mistake or mistook my mistake as a deliberate attempt at something lurid or unseemly.
Home at last. Back amongst my group. Where I belong - with the man herd.
Unlike the Ladies Room, the Men's Room quickly becomes home to a flurry of activity with overweight and slightly overweight men, sporting various patterns of plaid and deciduous forest camouflage, milling about. Some know each other and judge this to be a good place to have a short chat, slap one another on the back and say, "Well, alrighty then."
The only fortunate thing for me in THIS restroom was that I had already chosen my urinal before the herd had arrived. This was quickly played to my disadvantage.
I didn't take the low one. There might be a little kid coming in or maybe a midget - they would probably appreciate it if the low urinal was open.
Well, that eliminated taking a urinal located on a strategic end.
Deliberately choosing the middle urinal or ANY urinal that isn't on an end is just asking for trouble . . . particularly if you're the least bit shy. For this reason, the end is always better than a middle where you can be sandwiched in and surrounded by men of wide ranging girths, wide ranging stances and varying degrees of regard or disregard for trajectory, stream pressure, aim or splash back. Being surrounded is especially bad when the urinals are packed in so tightly because they left out space for privacy/splash partitions when drawing up the final building plans.
Much to my dismay, a couple of big fellers came in and docked themselves at my Port and Starboard. I finish earlier than planned, wash my hands and made my exit. No privacy/splash partitions in this locale.
Had I not questioned myself, I probably could have done my business uninterrupted in the quiet of an abandoned Ladies Room and been none the worse because of it. Ignorance is bliss, after all.
I kind of like the idea of a sanctuary restroom like those enjoyed by the women folk who walk among us. I think I'll float my idea for an equally outfitted Men's Room counterpart to corporate. The least I could do would ask them to exercise a little continuity on the restroom locations and ask that local franchisees not be so cheap as to not budget in a few dividers between the urinals - if my request for equal treatment falls on deaf ears.
I don't think women know how good they have it.
I don't think you don't know how grateful I am that no one saw me in the Ladies Room and cried "foul."
